


Where Angels Die

by Venomis



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Corruption, Depression, Fluffy, Guilt, Innocence, Jail, Kindness, M/M, Prison, Prison love, Prisoners, Protection, Protectiveness, Secret love, Standing up for yourself, Submission, Sweetness, Violence, cellmates, posession
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:41:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27655619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venomis/pseuds/Venomis
Summary: Being framed by his lover, Rick is sent to prison. Among all monsters lurking in the dark, there is one angel who makes his heart beat faster. The boy is owned by Moloch, the most feared criminal around. While he isn't even allowed to talk to other people, Rick is determined to ease his pain, his soul too bright to foresee the devastating consequences of his love.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 12





	1. Eat You Alive

Rick flinched when the men rattled at their bars, howling, whistling and catcalling as he shuffled by, his belongings clutched against his chest as if someone would try to rob him. While his heart was slamming in his chest, he tried to ignore all the comments that were made about his 'nice little ass'. He had the feeling the word 'gay' was written all over his body and bile crept up into his gullet at the fear that being into men gave every guy around here the right to use his body as they pleased. 

Instinctively, he walked closer to the guard, wishing the man would tell the men to shut up and leave him alone. He even longed for a protective arm around his shoulders, although the man made no such attempt. He stopped in front of a cell, put the key in the lock and opened the door, with a gesture of his head motioning Rick to get inside. 

Rick's bottom lip was quivering. There had been countless nightmares about this moment; the encounter with his cellmate. His anxious mind had painted vivid pictures about sadistic giants and sly old men that were craving for young flesh. Entering the dim cell, he shuffled to the bunk to the right and carefully laid down his belongings; an extra overall, two pairs of socks and boxer briefs and some toiletries. 

Behind him, the cell door was closed. Without a goodbye, the guard turned around and walked away, leaving Rick behind with his worries. Nervously, he bit his lip. He could feel the other man's presence to his left. Although the other inmates were anything but quiet, he believed to be able to hear his cellmate's breathing. Postponing the moment to face him, Rick refolded his clothes although they had already been folded neatly. There had to be a closet around to put away his stuff, but he couldn't find the courage to look around, fearing the hunger in the man's eyes. 

He waited almost five minutes until his cellmate would say something to him, but silence persisted. Was he alone? Could he really be that lucky? Carefully he turned around and sat down on the edge of his bunk. His eyes fluttered through the room, registering the toilet, the sink and the cupboards, a small writing table and even a small tv screen. Ultimately, his eyes landed upon the bunk opposite to his. 

Rick had expected a hundred things of his arrival in this dark place — but not that his cellmate would completely ignore him. He was sitting with his back against the wall, one knee bent against which a book was resting. His eyes were glued to the paper, whatever was written on it had to be ten times more interesting than Rick's presence. 

Since the man had dipped his head, part of his face was hidden in shadows. Nevertheless Rick concluded that he was in his late twenties — not even that much older than he was. He was wearing a black shirt through which his muscles were visible, and the tan skin on his arms was adorned with tattoos, which could also be seen above the neck of his shirt. 

Rick swallowed, not exactly disliking the view in front of him. 

He folded his hands, wondering if it could be possible that the man had been so immersed in his book that he hadn't noticed Rick at all. 

Clearing his throat, he whispered: "Hi."

It sounded stupid. 

Even more because it was barely audible. If the man hadn't been distracted by the hollers of the other inmates, his clumsy whisper would neither grab his attention. 

"Uhm — hi," he said, a little harder now. "I uhm — I'm you're new cellmate. I um — I hope we will become good friends."

His own words made him cringe — but at least the man lowered his book and slowly turned his head to the side. 

"Where the hell do you think you are boy?" a mocking voice asked him. "At school camp?"

Rick's cheeks flushed. "N-no," he whispered. 

Brown eyes drilled right into his own. There was a darkness inside them, making his throat dry. He swallowed, yet he couldn't look away from the man's handsome face. His fingers itched, eager to caress that beautiful face, to feel the faint facial hair under his skin, to trace his strong jawline and his soft lips — the only soft feature the man seemed to possess. 

As the man's eyes wandered down his body, Rick couldn't help but wonder if he liked what he saw. He was narrow and small, quite a misfit in a place with rugged men like his cellmate. He barely had any facial hair, which made him look younger than he actually was. The man noticed it too. 

"Juvie was full?" he asked, his eyebrows raised. 

"Umm — no," he answered. "I'm 22, actually. Not that long tho — I turned 22 just a few weeks ago."

The man lifted the corner of his mouth, forming a contemptuous smirk. "You look like a school boy. They're gonna eat you alive."

Uncomfortably, Rick shifted on the bed, thinking back to the sexual remarks that were made on his way to his cell. "Will you — will you protect me?" he asked, his eyes wide, pleading. 

The man chuckled. "Now why would I do that?"

"I — I can be a pleasant cellmate," he said. "I can sing. And I — I can tell stories. I love to tell myths and legends."

He could also offer other things, he wouldn't mind to go down on his knees for a handsome man like that, but he was afraid the offer would piss him off — there was something about him screaming straight. 

"You really that fucked in the head that you think the payment around here consists of songs?" the man asked. "Weren't you supposed to be brought to the psychiatric ward?"

Rick bent his head and stared at the floor. There was a time people had enjoyed listening to his stories. He had been able to make people laugh, distracting them from their sad thoughts. If there was a place where spirits needed to be uplifted, it had to be in a prison, right? 

"So what do you want?" he whispered. "Money? I — I don't have any."

A dry chuckle left the man's lisp. "Then you're fucked boy. Literally. Like I said — they're gonna eat you alive."

Rick's lips started to quiver, a tear rolled down his cheek. "I — I don't want that," he muttered. 

"You should have thought about that before you committed a crime. What did you think was gonna happen to a pretty boy like you?"

His cheeks flushed as the man called him pretty, even though his words left a sting in his stomach. "I'm innocent," he whispered, looking up to the man, hoping he could see the truth in his teary eyes. 

"I'm sure you are," the man huffed. His hard eyes rested upon Rick's frightened face. "Let me give you one free advise. Tears ain't gonna help you here boy. It's gonna attract the predators; they will be circling around you like sharks around a bleeding dolphin."

And with that, the man picked up his book again and continued to read as if he hadn't just sentenced Rick to death.


	2. Hungry Wolves

That night, Rick didn't sleep for a minute. The words of his cellmate kept racing through his head. Had the man just wanted to scare him? He knew there were criminals living here, but they wanted to turn their lives around, right? Their punishment would be worsened if they continued their criminal activities in here, if they even _raped_ other people, right? Or did nobody care? Was he stripped off every human right? 

Rolling on his other side, he stared at the stone wall. He felt cold. He felt lonely. His bottom lip started to quiver again. He didn't understand how Wyatt could do this to him. He had always been obedient. He had done everything in his power to pleasure his master and Wyatt had always taken care of him. Why did he tell the police that the illegal guns under the floor belonged to him? Wyatt didn't really believe that, right? Rick wouldn't even dare to touch a gun. Did Wyatt know the weapons had been there? He had even wondered if Wyatt had been the one storing the guns, blaming Rick for it. But that couldn't be true, right? He had always been a good boy, why would Wyatt want to send him to prison? His stomach hurt. He had always believed the twenty year older man was protecting him, but now it felt like the man had thrown him for the wolves. Very hungry wolves. A tear slipped down his cheek. He pressed his fist against his quivering lips, trying to smother his sobs. He didn't want his cellmate to hear it, let alone anyone else. He hadn't forgotten about the warning; that his tears would only attract mean people.

* * *

Rick felt exhausted and nervous when he put on his clothes the next morning and shuffled towards the dining hall. Quietly, he sat down next to his cellmate. The man didn't speak a single word to him, but he neither send him away. Rick stirred the porridge, taking little bites while he tried to ignore the scorching looks that were burning on his skin. Skittishly, he looked up now and then. There was a huge black man who licked his lips, and another man sent him a wink. 

"Don't make eye contact," he heard close to his ear. 

His cellmate emptied his glass of milk, got up and left the dinner room. Rick left half of his porridge behind and quickly followed him; he didn't dare to stay behind on his own. 

A little insecure he sauntered behind the man. He had told Rick he didn't want to protect him, but if other inmates _thought_ that he was protecting him, they might leave him alone. Through different hallways he followed the other convict until they stepped outside. There was a quad with baskets.

Eagerly, Rick inhaled the fresh air; it felt like he had been locked up for months. His cellmate sat down on a bench and stared forward. Rick hesitated. Would he allow Rick to sit down next to him? Maybe he hadn't a lot of friends either. He appeared to be a loner. 

Very slowly Rick sat down on the other end of the wooden bench. The other was still ignoring him, but he didn't let it discourage him. He had a feeling this man was still his best chance to survive around here. They clearly left him alone. Or did they leave him alone because of the crime he had committed? He might be a serial killer!

There was a pit in his stomach. "Why — why are you in jail?"

The man didn't even look aside. 

Rick wobbled with his feet. Hadn't he heard him? He cleared his throat. 

Before he could repeat his question, the man got up and walked back inside. Rick hesitated for a moment, then he quickly followed him. He was barely inside when the convict grabbed him by the collar and pushed him against the wall. 

"Stop following me like a lost puppy," he grumbled. 

"I uh — I only wanted to ask you where I can find the offices. I — I have an appointment."

"At the end of the hallway at your right. Every inmate coulda told you that."

"I'm scared of everyone else."

"You should be more afraid me."

He spun around and walked away with large steps. 

Rick disagreed with his words. At least he hadn't wanted to rape him and despite his whimsical behavior Rick liked him. Plus, he had helped him a little. Rick's hands slipped into the pockets of his overall as he sauntered across the hallway, keeping his eyes at the floor. 

Something he shouldn't have done, for he walked into something hard. A man. The one who had been winking at him. He was tall and broad and bald, and the look in his eyes sent a shiver down his spine. 

"Did your mama never taught you to introduce yourself when you're new?" the man ask with a slight Russian accent. 

"Umm — my name is Rick," he said quietly. His eyes shot through the hallway. There were a lot of people, this giant wouldn't hurt him now, right? "What's — what's your name?"

His hungry look wandered across Rick's body. His stomach cramped up. 

"Olav."

"Oh... okay Olav," he answered timidly. "It uh — it's been a pleasure to meet you," he said politely. "But — but I have an appointment with the supervisor."

Quickly, he slipped past the man, who chuckled. 

"We'll see each other later, little one." With his big hand he slapped Rick's bottom. 

Rick felt his stomach twist. Quickly he walked further, his behind was stinging. He prayed to never see the man again, but he knew that wasn't going to happen. He had nowhere to go. With a stabbing feeling in his stomach he thought about tonight, when he was supposed to take a shower. 

Swallowing his nervousness, he headed into the direction where the offices had to be. A guard was waiting for him, taking him to the supervisor. He was a portly man with a red face, who was surrounded by a sweaty smell. 

Rick was so nervous he only heard half of what the man was telling him. He got an explanation about the various facilities, the things he was able to buy and the daily routine. 

"You will be assigned to the laundry," the man said. "Working hours are from 8 to 3; you have a day off at Sunday." He handed Rick a pile of papers. "You earn 75 cents an hour. Read the instructions, after lunch you will join your working party."

Rick returned to his cell with the information in his hand. He never knew people were actually working in jail. He was glad about it; at least he would be busy now. The supervisor had also given him a time table telling him when to eat, when to sport and at what times he was supposed to be in his cell. He liked the routine, and with a little more courage he awaited the next hours. 

* * *

Working in the laundry was monotonous, but not very complicated. At home he had always ironed Wyatt's shirts, so that was easy for him. It wasn't prison overalls alone that needed to be washed; there were huge sacks, coming from hospitals and other companies. Rick realized he was carrying out the lightest work; his companions were mainly old men or boys with the same narrow built. There was one very pretty boy who was also in his early twenties, but he avoided eye contact with anyone and Rick wondered if he had failed in finding a protector. Rick would have liked to talk to him if they hadn't been 50 feet apart, so he concentrated on his task and talked to no one. 

Dinner time. During lunch Rick had shared a table with old men who had simply ignored his presence. This time, his eyes also fluttered across the room to find a safe place. His cellmate was sitting at the same table as during breakfast, but just like during lunch he was surrounded by others now. The easiness with which he talked to them, showed Rick that after all there was a group with who he hanged out. Which made sense — nobody survived this place all alone. He wondered which group he could join and what they would want in return. 

Rick's appetite disappeared when the Russian sat down next to him, pushing his knee against Rick's leg. He felt sick. Quietly, he took small bites of his food. He froze when he felt a hand on his thigh. Panicking, his eyes shot to his cellmate, but he was at another table and paid no attention to him. He could only save himself. 

Quickly, he stuffed his mouth with the remaining food, shoved back his chair and muttered something about getting a dessert. 

Olav smirked. "I think I pick you as my dessert tonight."

* * *

Rick pressed a towel against his chest while he lined up for the showers. Although he was still wearing his boxer briefs, he felt naked. Although he was gay, the thought to share a shower with lots of other men wasn't arousing. He longed for his own private shower.

Slowly they moved forward. His cellmate was a little behind him. The Russian was nowhere to be seen — until Rick reached the doors towards the showers. Olav was leaning against the door post, a wide smirk on his face. 

"There you are," he grinned. "I was waiting for you. We'll be the last to go in." His eyes wandered across Rick's slim body. 

Rick started to panic. "I — I wanna go now," he stammered. 

"Nah-ah, you're the newbie. You're going to be the last one."

Rick bent his head and stayed silent. He just wanted this to be over. Quietly, he shuffled further. When he noticed two guards next to the door, he felt a little relieved. They would make sure nothing would happen to him, right? 

Rick left his towel and clean boxers at a bench close to the opposite wall. His glance aimed at the floor, he walked to an empty shower. The less attention he was attracting, the better. Some remarks were made, but Rick didn't listen to them and was singing a song in his head to distract himself. 

The water was cold. Rick rinsed himself off as quickly as he could. From the corner of his eye he saw that Olav was studying his body. As panic started to rise inside him, Rick started to look around. There were still a few men showering, among which his own cellmate. He had turned his back towards them. Rick's breathing faltered as he saw his well-formed back and firm buttocks. He blushed. 

"You see something you like, hmm?"

Skittishly, Rick looked at the tattooed, flabby upper body of the man next to him. It felt as if someone was squeezing his throat when he saw the huge erection of the man. Olav stepped closer. 

"Why don't you get on your knees?"

Rick's eyes shot to the guards. The only reaction he got in return, was a wink. 

"I — I don't want..."

"Sssh. It's not about what you want. Just warm me up a bit, then I'll show you some prison love."

Anxiously, Rick shook his head. 

The man started to become impatient. With a grunt, he stepped forward, laying his hands on Rick's shoulders and pushing him roughly on his knees. 

"Hurry up. The other guys want a turn too."

"W-what?"

With a sigh, the man dragged him back on his feet, turned him around and pushed him with his chest against the wall. "Then I'll pound you right away."

Rick tried to struggle away. He could already feel the hard heat against his crack. Tears sprung in his eyes. Despite the warnings of his cellmate he started to sob. 

"He's mine," a sudden voice sounded. "My cellmate. My property."

Sniffing, Rick looked over his shoulder. The Hispanic guy was standing close to them — his handsome cellmate, who was only wearing black boxers now. 

The Russian narrowed his eyes. "Really? The saint wants to be the one violating this young flesh?"

"We're not all that ugly that we need to rape someone to get off. Get over here, Rick."

He didn't have to say that twice. Rick pulled himself away from Olav and quickly hid behind his cellmate. He noticed the other inmates were watching the conversation with interest. 

"Your arms," a blonde boy whispered, who was dressing himself. He was so small he looked fourteen, although his fierce grey eyes and the tattoos on his arms told him a different story. "Wrap your arms around him."

Rick did as the boy told him, he enveloped his arms around his cellmate and pressed his cheek against the man's back. He felt the other tense. He feared a snark; maybe the blonde boy had just wanted to make fun of him. 

"The boy is mine," his protector said again. "That clear?"

"Fine," the Russian grumbled, glaring at them. Then his lips curled into a smirk. "For now. A few more months and you will no longer be around to protect the little lambs."

The man ignored those words, turned around and pushed Rick backwards. "Get dressed. We're going back."

Silently, Rick did as he was told. The relief was immense. Despite his earlier words, his cellmate had asserted himself as his protector and Rick wanted nothing more than hug him to show his gratefulness. 

Once they were back in their cell, Rick sat a bit awkwardly at the edge of his bed. Because of the hold-up in the shower the lights were already out. Rick wasn't sure what was expected of him now. 

"What um — what do you want me to do? Now um — now that I'm yours?" Rick asked quietly. 

There was a growl. "I want you to shut your fucking mouth. Go to sleep."

Rick flinched at the sound of the man's grim voice. Quickly, he slid under the blankets. 

"Good night," he whispered. "And — and thank you for standing up for me."

He got no response. 


	3. Mark My Words

This time, Rick slept much more peaceful than the night before, knowing he didn't have to fear anyone. His cellmate would protect him. Nothing could happen to him. Hopefully, the man would at least tell him his name today. That would be another step towards a friendship. The prospect made his skin tingle; it had been a long time since someone had called him a friend. In his senior year he had lost most of his friends. With a heavy feeling in his chest he thought back to that period. How he had organized game and movie nights, without anyone showing up. How he had been alone with his parents at his 18th birthday, a milestone he had dreamed about for years and which he had wanted to celebrate big. 

A piercing sound chased away the memories. Immediately, light filled their cell. Rick sat up straight, rubbing his face. When he heard the other bed crack, he lowered his hands. 

"Good morning!" he said merrily. 

His cellmate narrowed his eyes as if he was bothered by a hangover, then he glared at him as if Rick had been the one waking him up. Rick's mirth crumbled. Friendship felt like a dream that was further away than ever. To hide his disappointment he turned around quickly and started to clothe himself. He regretted his move as soon as he was facing the white wall; he would rather have caught a glimpse of the half naked body of the man behind him. Oh, how eager he was to slip his hands across that muscular torso.... His fingers started to tingle. 

Quickly he put on his overall, then he sat down on the edge of the bed and waited until the cell door slid open. Unfortunately, not much was to be seen of that beautiful body. 

A click sounded. Rick got up and followed his cellmate to the dining hall. Would he allow Rick to sit next to him? Everyone was supposed to know that Rick belonged to him, right? His shoulders however slumped down when the man sat down at a table without any other empty seats — the same one where he had been sitting yesterday during lunch and dinner. With a gnawing feeling inside his stomach, he wondered if he had chosen this spot so he could get rid of him. 

A little crestfallen he kept standing next to him. "Can I — umm — can't I sit with you?"

The man next to his cellmate started to chuckle. "You think you belong at the table for big men?"

A smirk flashed across his protector's face. Then he nodded aside. "Sit at that table. With the other pups."

Rick followed his gaze. Only now, he saw the other table standing close to the wall. There were two boys of his age sitting there. He recognized the small, blond boy with the fiery eyes who had been in the shower last night. The other had a familiar face too; it was the beautiful boy who was in his laundry group. Immediately, Rick felt much better. He walked over to them. Before he could sit down, another boy flopped down on a chair, moving so inelegantly his food was almost sliding off his tray. The boy had red dreadlocks reaching down to his shoulders and was the first one offering him a smile. 

"Hey handsome." A wink followed. "Come join us!"

Rick sat down next to the boy. "Thank you. My umm — my cellmate told me to sit here."

The redhead wiggled his eyebrows. "You got a hot one?"

"You better don't tell him who it is," the blond boy said with a smirk. "I've seen plenty of versions of Tommy the past months, but I'm not looking forward to meet mr. Jealousy."

The redhead — Tommy — looked at him, slack-jawed. "O-em-gee! Is Mateo your cellmate?"

"He hasn't told me his name yet," Rick answered. "It's the one over there, at the corner."

Tommy leaned with his elbow at the table, his fist supporting his cheek. "Yeah..." he sighed. "My knight in shining armor."

The other boy started to laugh, looking Rick in the eye. "Only in his dreams."

Tommy's face grew gloomy and he sighed deeply. "Unfortunately. He didn't even accept my Christmas gift."

The blonde sniggered, shaking his head. "He means himself," he told Rick. "He offered himself, fully naked, with some colored ribbons tied to his hear. Mateo however had no interest in our local whore."

"Even though I give the best blowjobs," Rick complained. Yet, his eyes were sparkling playfully and he leaned closer to Rick. "And the more handsome the men, the cheaper I am," he whispered. "And sometimes... I do all for free."

The boy's insinuations made Rick's cheeks flush. 

The other chuckled. "Leave him, Tom. We're not all as gay as you are."

"You're the one to talk," Tommy huffed. 

"I'm bicurious. To some extent. But only because my cellmate is such a great kisser."

"I'm sure I'm better," the redhead answered, sounding aloof. "What about you? Do you prefer boys or girls?"

"Umm, boys."

Tommy's grin widened. "You're my new homie."

Rick's heart made a flip flop. It felt like he was still dreaming. Suddenly this place felt no longer like hell, now he had found boys of his age who apparently also found protection in other inmates. His glance wandered to the third boy. Just like yesterday, he avoided eye contact. He had bent his head and stared at his plate. There was a sandwich on it of which he had only taken a few bites. There was a sadness radiating from him that caused a lump in Rick's throat. 

"I'm Rick," he said, hoping the boy would at least look up.

He didn't. 

"I'm Ace," the blond boy answered. 

"And I'm Tommy."

Expectantly, Rick looked at the other boy. 

"That's Aaron," Ace told him. "He barely speaks. Just let him be."

There was a sympathetic look in the grey eyes of the blond boy. 

"If I were you I would get some food, my friend," Tommy said. "Couple more minutes and work starts."

Rick had been so eager to make friends that he had forgotten about the food at all. Quickly he got up, walked to the side of the hall and filled his plate with a cheese sandwich, an apple and Wheaties. 

"To whom do you belong?" he asked curiously as he sat with his new friends again. 

"To Emeril," Ace answered. "He's diagonally across from Mateo."

Rick looked over his shoulder. It was a handsome young man, probably in his late twenties, with beautiful blue eyes that contrasted with his tan skin. 

"I've been very lucky," Ace admitted. "He was nice since the moment we met. I had just turned 18 when I was sent to jail and he protected me from the start."

Tommy sighed dramatically. "So romantic. I wish my cellmate was as hot as yours. But mine is close to his 80's and all he does is sleep." He pouted. ydenly, something moved across his leg. The grunt that followed, told him that Ace had kicked his friend's leg, signalling to Aaron with his eyes. 

"Sorry," Tommy said quickly. "I got no reason to complain."

Aaron didn't respond, his glance still glued to his plate. Rick felt a stab in his stomach. Actually he wanted to give the boy a squeezing hug, but since Aaron didn't even dare to look up, it sounded like a bad idea.

"My cellmate wasn't very friendly at first," Rick said hesitantly. The silence started to make him nervous. "But when someone wanted to... attack me yesterday, he stood up for me." A bit dreamily he thought back to how steadfast Mateo's voice had sounded. "And then he told the other man I was his."

"Yeah, rub it in my face." Tommy elbowed his side, sticking out his tongue. "He acts all tough 'n shit, but secretly he's really sweet. Last year there was also a boy who was attacked by two men in the shower. I have no idea where the knife was coming from, but he stabbed them both. The two disappeared and Mateo never got any punishment. Since that day, most lie low when he's around. He seems to have a lot of friends among the guards." 

A deep warmth filled him when he heard that Mateo had saved someone from being raped before. Secretly, he fantasized that Mateo had purposely stayed in the shower to make sure nothing would happen to him. That would be so, so sweet!

He turned to Tommy. "And who's your protector? I assume it's not the old man?"

"I don't need a protector," the redhead boasted. "I give 'em what they want anyway, as long as I get something nice in return." He smirked, then he nodded to the table where Mateo and Emeril were sitting. "But that redhead over there... that's my brother. He is close with the other guys, so most days they leave me alone. I think we can all call ourselves lucky."

Suddenly, Aaron stood up, grabbed his tray so tightly his knuckles were turning white and rushed away. Ace gave Tommy a dark look, who flinched. 

"I keep forgettin' he's around too," he sighed, guilt written all over his face. "Because well — it's not like he's sayin' much."

"What's eating him?" Rick asked quietly. 

"He can't talk."

"You mean — he's a mute... or does someone forbid him to talk?"

"The latter."

"Who?"

"The man he's sold to."

Rick's eyes almost popped out of their sockets. " _Sold?_ "

Tommy nodded with an earnest face. "They call him Moloch. He's there, in the corner, alone."

Rick looked aside. He saw a man who was in his mid-thirties. With his dark eyes he seemed to taunt everyone around. There was a swastika tattooed in his neck. A shiver crept down Rick's spine; darkness seemed to live inside that man. 

"Poor Aaron," he said softly. 

"Yeah." Tommy sighed. "The moment Moloch saw the boy, he wanted him. He paid a fortune to get a cell transfer and ever since, Aaron is only a shadow of who he used to be."

"One day, he came to sit with us," Ace told him. "I don't wanna know how he earned that right." His voice sounded bitter. "And when it will be taken from him again, so he can't even listen to the conversations of other people anymore."

Rick stared at his food. Suddenly he wasn't hungry anymore. There had to be a way to help the boy, right? 

* * *

During the rest of the day, the words of the two boys about Aaron kept haunting him. He thought of how scared he had felt in the shower yesterday. Imagine you were in a cell with a beast like Olav every day — and Moloch was probably a whole lot worse. Rick loved mythology, so he knew where the name was coming from; it had been a Canaanite god that was associated to child sacrifice. A nickname he had not just earned. 

His stomach in knots, Rick folded the laundry. Again and again his eyes wandered to the boy. Nobody paid attention to him, nobody talked to him. He carried out his tasks in silence, his sleeves rolled up to ease the work. It felt like an electric shock ran through his body when he saw the boy's arms; the skin was covered in bruises. His heart ached for the boy. Oh, how much he wanted to take his sadness away from him, giving him a reason to smile. 

When Rick was finished with his own pile of laundry, he decided to help Aaron. His fingers were moving clumsily, and Rick noticed they were swollen. He had to be in a lot of pain. The boy didn't say a single thing when they worked through the laundry. Aaron's shoulders were tense, not for a moment he looked up.

"I'm going to help you," Rick whispered. "Not only with this. But we — we will find a way to help you."

For the first time, Aaron raised his face. His eyes were amber, almost gold, soft as honey. For a moment Rick's breathing faltered. The look in them was so... melancholic, so... broken. They screamed for a hug. 

"You can't help me. Watching how he will let someone suffer for trying to help me will hurt more than whatever he does to me physically." His voice was shaking, he was clearly fighting the tears. Skittishly, he looked past Rick. "Do what everyone else does, Rick. Bury your head in the sand."

But Rick shook his head. 

He couldn't. He would find a way to help. 

* * *

Rick was sitting on his bed, his legs crossed. Mateo was lying on his own bunk, again immersed in his book. Rick wanted to talk to him about Aaron, but he wasn't sure how to bring it up. After all, they hadn't had a single normal conversation. 

In the end, Mateo lowered his book and glared at him. _"What?_ "

"I think Aaron is abused by his cellmate," he blurted out. 

Mateo raised his eyebrows. "So?"

"So?" he repeated indignantly. "His cellmate is a monster! Aaron's arms are covered in bruises!"

"It's none of your business," Mateo answered roughly. "And it sure as hell isn't any of _my_ business."

Rick crossed his arms. "I know you're not as uncaring as you want me to believe! Tommy told me you stabbed two men because they were about to rape someone."

Mateo kept his glance, his jaw thickened. "I can't exactly make a habit of it."

"But you have to do something!"

"Why?"

"Because — because he's sweet! He doesn't deserve this."

Mateo swung his legs over the edge of his bed and leaned forward. The look in his eyes sent shivers down his spine. "And what the hell can _I_ do about that?"

"People are afraid of you."

"Only pussies are afraid of me. Moloch fears nothing and no one. The only thing you can do to help, is kill the man. Fine by me if you want to give up a lifetime of freedom for that, but I'm not gonna risk it."

"He is my friend. I have to help him."

Mateo huffed. "You're in jail, little brat. You're not at the playground. No one around here is going to be your friend. It's every man for himself."

"But Ace and Tommy..."

"Will stab you in the back, sooner or later. Mark my words."

In defeat, Rick bent his head. Mateo's words spread through his veins like poison. He just refused to believe them. 

"We're not all monsters."

"No. We're all human."


	4. Alone

"And? How is he?"

Mateo glanced aside, his hands leaning on the wooden bench they were sitting on. Emeril wasn't looking at him, his eyes were aimed at the basketball game. Mateo turned his head back to the game as well, searching for Rick. He was probably the worst basketball player he had ever seen. He kept stumbling over his feet, was shoved aside by literally everyone and he hadn't caught a single ball. He was downright clumsy. Very different than the small blonde he'd befriended, who ran across the field like he was the god of wind. 

"He talks too much."

Emeril chuckled. "You gotta put somethin' in his mouth then."

Mateo's eyes rested upon the boy, who was leaning on his knees, panting. His dark curls stuck to his face. Twenty two years old, he'd told him. Mateo would have believed him if he had said to be ten years younger. 

"You think you're gonna fit in that little ass anyway?"

Mateo snorted. "We'll never know."

Around others he would pretend that Rick was his bitch, but Emeril was one of the few guys he believed he could be honest with. He knew the man was only teasing him because Mateo kept turning him down, not interested in a threesome with him and his little blond devil. 

He had never been into guys, although he had to admit he'd never loved a woman either. But he did love their bodies — and damn, how he missed them. However, it never went past physical pleasure. 

"I do think he's gay. If you're discrete, letting no one know that you're doing my boy, you can lend him. If he wants to." An addition that was quite superfluous, for he knew his friend — as far as one could have friends in prison — was no rapist. And even Mateo himself had to admit that Emeril and his lover were one of the finest men around. He couldn't imagine Rick wouldn't be interested in any or either of them. 

Laughing arose from the group of sportsmen when Rick fell on the ground for the umpteenth time. With a strong arm, Ace pulled him back on his feet. The two boys were laughing as if they were in high school, even though Rick looked pained. He limped to the side and looked around. 

Mateo sighed as he followed the boy's gaze. Aaron was sitting on the ground, all alone, his back against a low wall. He had wrapped his arms around his legs and was staring at his knees. Moloch was on the other side of the square, although he knew his eyes wouldn't leave his property. The distance was only meant to torture the boy, to show him nobody cared about him. 

Nobody but Rick. 

The boy flopped down on the ground next to Aaron. Mateo saw the boy stiffen, he didn't look up. 

Rick's lips weren't moving. He was quiet, he just seemed to want to keep the boy company. 

Mateo hesitated. Should he call for him? Or would Moloch overlook this because Rick was new? And because he was, well, Rick. Even Mateo noticed he was starting to have a weakness for the boy. Already, after barely a week. He didn't belong here. Mateo had a hard time believing there was a judge stupid enough to decide that Rick was capable of doing whatever crime. He was like a child. Tirelessly friendly. The innocence self. 

Mateo didn't want to feel attached to him. Six more months and he could get out, the last thing he wanted was having a weakness. Many around here wished to drink his blood, who would hurt Rick because of him. It was one of the reasons why he had wanted to leave him to his fate — although he had always known he didn't have it in him. He couldn't be a silent spectator when someone was raped. From the beginning, he had known how the boy would end up if he was unprotected. 

The silent, withdrawn boy who was sitting next to his cellmate now, was living proof. 

He would become a ghost, a symbol of pain. 

From very close, Mateo had seen the destruction caused by sexual abuse. Hell — it was even the reason he was here. He couldn't sit there and watch how a defenseless boy like Rick was turned into some asshole's plaything. 

With a heavy feeling in his chest he looked at Aaron. Rick wasn't the only one moved by the boy's fate. He had done everything he could — but Moloch possessed more money than him. And there wasn't much one could do to someone who got off on pain, who found pleasure in what others feared. 

A few more weeks, and Aaron would be free. He would have to pull through. Nobody, neither Rick nor him, could change anything about that. 

* * *

By the end of the afternoon he was called away from the square; it was visitor hour. A rare smile curled up his lips as he entered the room and sat down behind a table. Invariably, his little brother visited him the first Saturday of every month. Sometimes alone, sometimes with his best friend. There were no other people visiting him — there wasn't someone else he wanted to see anyway. 

But every time he could speak to Juan again was like a little light in his life. Mateo didn't care about a lot of people, but his brother meant the world to him. Their bond had always been strong; their father left them when they were young and mom blamed them. They never knew the love of a mother. He had been the one putting band-aids on Juan's knees, giving him advice about girls, buying him clothes, wrapping an arm around him when he was doubting himself and holding him during the night when he woke up screaming. 

Sure — by now, Juan was an adult. He wasn't that depended on him anymore, he'd learned how to man up. Yet, his childhood traumas had left deep scars. Scars he felt daily. The year before Mateo's conviction had been a rough one, it had almost destroyed his little brother. He knew his imprisonment hadn't done him any good, and that he clung to their sparse meetings like it was his last resort.

With his chin leaning on his fists he stared at the door. Minutes passed by. A bit restlessly he shoved on his chair. It wasn't like Juan to be late. Usually he was way too early, not risking to waste time. 

The room was filled with voices, people who hadn't seen each other in ages filling each other in about their lives. Children visiting their parents, parents seeing their kids. Girlfriends who stared lovingly at their lovers, practically eye fucking. 

He sighed. 

Fifteen minutes passed by. Half an hour. 

He felt exposed, sitting at the table all alone. It looked pathetic. Waiting for a loved one who didn't show up. He however didn't consider to leave. Juan could have been stuck in traffic. If they could only talk for a minute so he could convince himself his brother was okay, it would be an immense relief. 

A piercing sound announced the end of the visiting hour. Once again his eyes shot to the door, hoping to catch a glimpse of a hurried boy. But there was no one. 

"Time's up, Ortiz," a guard said next to him. 

Mateo nodded, letting the guard walk him to his cell. 

* * *

Rick was sitting behind the tiny writing table. A pile of papers laid on top of it, a few pages had been written upon. It had to be a miserably long letter. To whom was it addressed? His parents? It was unusual that nobody had wanted to visit him today. Especially in the beginning, most inmates received visitors weekly. 

For a moment he considered to ask it, then he brushed it off. Why the hell would he care. He had no interest in hearing Rick's life story. The less they knew about each other, the better. 

Rick looked over his shoulder when he heard him enter the cell and smiled. "Hi!"

He answered with a grunt. He wasn't in the mood to talk. There was a nagging feeling in his stomach because Juan hadn't showed up. Something like that had never happened before. He always rescheduled when anything came in between. Could he have forgotten about it? He couldn't imagine, not even when his head was a mess. Had he been held up in traffic? Or had things gone wrong again? Should he do something — call someone? With 100 bucks he could easily find a guard allowing him to make a call. But how would Juan respond when everything was all right? It would make him upset. He knew Mateo would only call if he was worried, and Juan would believe that his older brother was convinced that he couldn't do anything on his own. If every thing was fine, _that_ might cause a panic attack. 

Mateo swallowed a sigh and sat down on the bed. A dull headache conquered his head. He had to let go of his worries, he didn't want to look vulnerable. 

"I'm writing a letter to Aaron."

The words were so unexpected and they were _so fucking stupid_ it took a moment before Mateo understood what he was saying. "You're _what?"_ he snapped. 

He cursed in thoughts. Because of that stupid visiting hour his emotions were way too fucking close to the surface. 

Rick flinched. "He can't talk to me but I thought... I could write him letter. Just to — just to cheer him up. I made up a story for him. About a knight wanting to save a prince."

Mateo snorted in disbelief. This was too ridiculous for words. That kid would be dead before the month was over if he kept doing stupid things like this. He got up, rushed to the table and snatched away the papers. 

The handwriting was neat, like that of a school girl. His eyes glided across the lines. As cliche at it might have sounded; Rick's writing style read smooth and his tone was light, even humorous. 

Yet, he piled the papers up and tore them in two, and once again. 

Rick jumped up, yanking at his arm. "Stop being so mean!!" he yelled. 

Mateo wanted to slap him in the face at the sight of the tears in his eyes. Why the hell was that kid so damn sensitive? He should learn to fucking man up! "This is for your own good," he growled. "Moloch won't permit you to send love letters to his lover."

"Those are not love letters! They're just stories! So he can for one minute think about something else than... what that horrible man is doing to him!" His voice was shaking. 

_Don't you dare to cry._

"If he wants to read stories he can get a book from the library."

Rick crossed his arms in front of his chest, looking wronged at him. He looked like a teenager not getting his way. "It's not the same! A story that can be read by anyone has a different impact than something that is written specifically for you! It's a gift!"

Mateo sighed. That kid gave him a headache. He should let him dig his own grave, but he couldn't. 

"Aaron got a couple more weeks, and then he's freed from that fucker for the rest of his life. There's a good chance you're gonna be the next one he's going to pull on his lap if you attract his attention like this."

Rick looked at him with wide eyes, shocked. "But you — you will protect me, right?"

It hurt his ego to admit it, but he did it nonetheless. For Rick's sake. "I can't protect you from him. Just don't do anything stupid, okay? Don't give him a reason to fuck up your life."

Rick's shoulders slumped down. His glance slid down too, although it settled on the torn letters in his hands. With a quick movement he pulled them out of Mateo's hands and pressed them against his chest. 

"A few weeks is terrible when you feel horrible! We just have to make sure Moloch will never find out." Rick took a deep breath, looking desperately at him. "I just want to do something nice for him," he said quietly. "So that he knows he's not alone."

"But he _is_ alone," Mateo answered stubbornly. 

"He's not. Nobody is truly alone as long as there's someone thinking about him."

Mateo gave up. "Whatever," he grumbled. "I warned you."

He laid down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. It didn't take long before he heard the pencil scratch the paper again while the boy started to hum. 

The sound caused a pit in his stomach. 

Rick was like an angel. And if there was one place where angels died, it was here.


	5. Cheer You Up

Once Rick had earned enough money to borrow a book, he went to the small library where he choose a very big book about the royal houses of Europe, hiding the story he had written for Aaron in it. The look on the face of the old man who managed the library and handled the payment, told him the book hadn't left the case in decades. Rick had counted on that; this way, nobody else would find it. Nevertheless, he hadn't used his own name, nor that of Aaron, just to keep them safe. 

Rick was actually proud of his plan. He didn't think Moloch would find out about it. 

When he told Mateo about the plan, the man had shaken his head, telling him not to do it. Rick hadn't listened to him. His cellmate hadn't been in a good mood anyway; he would probably even growl when someone offered him a piece of cake. 

Now, Rick had to tell Aaron about the book. During the meals he was always accompanying Ace, Tommy and Rick himself, but he never spoke a word, nor did he look at them. Which was a shame, for Rick believed Aaron's eyes were very beautiful and often he fantasized what they would look like if they were actually sparkling. He really hoped to see it one day. 

At Friday, Rick got an unexpected opportunity. Being the smallest boys, Aaron and he were told to distribute the washed bedding. The new bedding was neatly piled upon a small cart which he pushed forward through the hallway, where by they had to enter all the cells to make the beds. 

"Well this is better than filling the washing machines, right?" Rick said. They'd put the cart between two cells. A guard was standing at the other end of the hallway, but he was too far to hear them. He probably wasn't expecting a lot of trouble from them anyway. "It hurts my back. I don't even know why, it's not like it's super heavy or something."

Aaron didn't answer. Quietly, he started to make the beds. Rick heard him gasp when he was pulling the fitted sheet around the corner of the mattress. 

"Hey, let me do it." 

Aaron pretended not to hear him and kept trying. His face however told Rick in how much pain he was. Carefully, he took Aaron's hand and looked at the bruises and swellings. 

"Healing will take much longer if you take no rest."

"It doesn't matter," Aaron muttered. "He will do it again anyway."

His voice sounded so defeated, Rick felt a stab in his stomach. Suddenly he could no longer hold back. He wrapped his arms around the boy and pulled him against his chest. "I'm so sorry for you," he whispered. 

Aaron froze. A few seconds passed by, then he tried to push Rick away. 

"Don't do that," he said, harder than Rick had heard him speak up to now. "You can't touch me."

"But nobody will know."

" _He_ will know."

His voice was shaking — no, his whole body was shaking. He was so scared, and Rick felt horrible for not being able to help him. Moloch was terrorizing him. Not only by hurting him physically, also be scaring him in such a way that his mind was controlled by fear. 

"But how?" Gently, Rick took his hands and caressed his stiff fingers. "He might call himself a god, but he's still human."

He heard Aaron's breathing falter as the boy stared at their hands. Rick wondered when had been the last time that someone had touched him without intending to hurt him. He looked at Aaron's handsome face. His skin was tan, and his eyebrows were beautifully shaped, just like his nose, and his mouth. 

He swallowed. It was hard not to softly press his lips against Aaron's. 

As if Aaron also feared a kiss, he pulled his hands away and left the cell. That was probably the wisest thing to do; they were in this cell for quite some time. In silence, they continued to make up the beds. They did every bed together, by which Aaron lifted the mattress while Rick put the fitted sheet around it. 

"Maybe they will allow us to do this every week," Rick said when they were halfway the cells. "I uhm — I like being around you. Even if — even if you don't talk much."

"You like it?" Aaron's voice sounded hoarse. "You should be terrified."

Rick shook his head. "Some feelings are stronger than fear. Love. Friendship."

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Maybe I don't," Rick admitted. "I don't know why you're inside, but I do know you don't deserve what that monster is doing to you. It hurts me to see that no one dares to talk to you."

Aaron looked up. There were tears shining in his eyes. "They have a good reason to ignore me, Rick."

Rick shook his head. "No. They all think they're tough and all, but they are all cowards. I — I know that we have to be careful, but I want to help you. I want to be your friend. Someone who can give you a hug when you feel sad." He bit his lip. "If no one else is around. Like — like now."

Rick looked into his beautiful golden eyes. He saw the hope inside him, and it filled him with an amazing heat. He gave the boy an encouraging smile. "I made something for you," Rick told him. "A present. It's — it's in a book in the library. The one about the royal families of Europe."

Nervously, he hooked his fingers, suddenly afraid that Aaron would find it stupid. 

"Umm, okay," was all Aaron answered. His cheeks flushed. "That — that's really sweet. But — but you didn't need to."

"It's a story," Rick told him. "I enjoyed writing it. Especially — especially when I imagined you would read it and like it." He started to blush too. "So you would feel a little less sad."

Aaron swallowed. Quickly, he wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "We have to move on," he muttered. Brusquely, he turned back to the cart and pushed it further ahead the corridor. 

The rest of the day, the boy didn't say a single word. Rick was a little disappointed. Would Aaron borrow the book and read his story? Or did he believe it was stupid? His shoulders slumped down. Of course he believed it was stupid. He was raped and abused by his cellmate. A stupid story about a prince and a knight wouldn't make his life any better. Rick even felt ashamed of his attempt to cheer him up. He had promised the boy to help him and all he could think of, was writing that stupid, stupid story. 

* * *

Tomorrow was visitor's day. Mateo still hadn't heard from his little brother; he hadn't made an appointment. Mateo had considered to call him, or to reach out to Juan's best friend to make sure he would keep an eye on him. However, he hadn't done it. He wasn't sure why not. Because he wanted to trust Juan in being fine without him? But what if he wasn't? What if there really was something wrong, what then? He couldn't do anything from here. Was he burying his head like a damn ostrich, avoiding any bad news? Was that something he should feel ashamed of? Life inside was so different then life outside; sometimes it was easier to pretend that there was no life outside these walls. 

Somewhere on the edge of his conscious he heard Rick's voice. The last thing he wanted right now, was listening to his whining. As much as he wanted to ignore him; somehow he simply couldn't. His ears always tried to identify the sounds he made. 

He rolled on his side. 

Rick was sitting on the edge of his bed, his feet on the ground, his hands folded as if he was praying. His eyes however were aimed at Mateo's face. 

"I distributed the clean bedding today. With Aaron."

Mateo heaved a sigh and laid down on his back again. "Then keep those romantic stories for him."

"I told him I wrote a story for him and that I hid it in a book about the royal families of Europe," Rick continued despite Mateo's words. "But I don't think he will read it. He didn't sound very excited." A sad silence fell. "And now I feel stupid. To think that something so simple would cheer him up."

"I told you it was stupid," he grunted. 

"I have to come up with a better idea."

"You gotta leave that kid alone man. He's living in a hell, the last thing he needs is listening to your whinin'."

"I... I didn't want..."

"Can't you just shut your mouth for one fucking night?" he snapped. He had no idea where his sudden frustration was coming from, but it felt like he was drowning in it.

Rick flinched. "I just want to cheer someone up. It — it makes me feel better. You are sad too. Don't think I haven't noticed. You are worried about something."

Mateo hated Rick's sensitivity and his ability to read his mood so quickly. "I'm fine," he said.

"Why don't you let me cheer you up?"

"Because songs and stupid stories won't cheer me up."

"I — I can do something else."

"Like what? Doing a puppet-show?"

"No — something that makes you relax. So that — so that you stop thinking about whatever is bothering you and what makes you so crabby."

"I'm not crabby," Mateo huffed. 

"Well you haven't smiled _a single time_ since we met."

Mateo let out a rude curse. "We're in jail, asshole! How many times do I have to tell you!" He got up and sat down across from Rick, giving him an intimidating look. 

Rick wasn't as easy to intimate as he thought. "They took our freedom from us. But that doesn't mean we can't find ways to enjoy ourselves."

Mateo stared at him. Enjoy yourselves. In jail. That kid was fucking crazy. Trying to talk some sense into him was a waste of energy. "Well? What do you want to do?" he asked, feeling tired. "Playing games? I'm a very bad loser."

Rick looked at him, his cheeks turning red. By some miracle, he didn't speak. In silence he slipped off the bed until he was kneeling in front of him. His hands glided to Mateo's knees and he pushed them apart. 

_Oh._

"You don't have to do that." He tried to push the boy away with his knee. 

"But I want to," he said quietly. "Why won't you let me? I — I will make sure you'll like it. Please," he said, looking up to Mateo with pleading eyes. "I like you. I want to do this for you."

The situation was so ridiculous Mateo could only stare at him. He didn't move when Rick positioned himself between his legs again, laying his hands on Mateo's knees and stroking the inside of his thighs. 

Mateo hadn't had sex in more than two years. He had masturbated now and then, but he hadn't let anyone touch him. Right now however, he found it hard to find a reason to reject his cellmate, even though he did feel uncomfortable. In silence, he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. With skilled fingers Rick helped him out of it.

Rick blushed as he looked at Mateo's member. He wasn't rock hard, but a few strokes of Rick's fingertips changed it quickly. 

Mateo stared at the boy's face. There was something erotic about the way Rick licked his lips. He felt how his excitement was rising, and that he wanted to feel those lips around him. 

And yet, it felt wrong. What kind of life had that young boy led if he offered himself like this to others? But if Mateo rejected him, to whom would he go then? To one of the other guys? Mateo knew he couldn't protect him if he started to offer himself to the men. Even if he would please only one or two others, people like Olav would consider it as an invitation to fuck him. 

And what if this would keep Rick from trying something with Aaron? It was better if he was the one on Rick's mind, instead of Moloch's property. Mateo might break his heart one day, but at least he wouldn't end up in a grave — something that was inevitable if he really fell in love with Aaron. 

Hesitantly, he bent forward. His fingers slightly touched Rick's jaw to encourage him to start. When the boy leaned closer to kiss his excitement, Mateo's fingers glided through Rick's curls. After leaving kisses all over his length, Ricked looked up to him and smiled. 

"Do you like it?" he asked quietly, a hopeful smile on his face. 

Mateo said nothing. Somehow he felt ashamed for liking it indeed, for wanting more. He looked away. 

Mateo's sexual encounters had always been brief. One night stands. With chicks he'd never seen again. There had been only one girl he'd fucked regularly, but neither of them had wanted to give up their freedom. He had been with whores, with virgins, with students and with women who were ten years older than he was. 

But he had never been with a man. 

And never with someone he was forced to see every day after. 

Rick's fingers glided across him, just like his lips. The moment he felt himself descend in the heat of Rick's mouth, a moan slipped his lips. His eyes shot back to the boy. He had closed his eyes, looking like he'd never tasted anything this delicious. Not hastily, not like a routine. Slowly, intense, is if he was really _loving_ someone. 

Mateo's breathing fell, his fingers raking through Rick's dark curls. A tingling sensation awoke in his mid-region. His eyelids drooping while all burdening thoughts left his head. 

Mateo felt a shiver race down his spine. A stormy heat followed, and then he started to jolt, grabbing the boy's head while coming undone. Panting, he fell back on the bed, his chest heaving. 

It had been so long, so fucking long...

"And?" it sounded a bit insecure. "Did you — did you enjoy it?"

Mateo said nothing. 

He felt ashamed.


	6. Angels and Demons

Aaron knew his way around the small library that was filled with discarded books. It wasn't because he was such a bookworm, but because this seemed to be the only place where he could escape Moloch's gaze. 

Of course, that was only an illusion. 

There were security cameras around, recording every move he made. It might not be his cellmate who was watching them, but he couldn't let go of the idea that there was a corrupt guard who told Moloch everything he wanted to know. There however were a few blind spots, and it was one of these spots where Aaron took the heavy book to. Flipping through the pages, he looked for the letter Rick had written to him. Three days had passed since Rick had told him about the present. Although he planned to ignore it at first, the boy kept looking at him with those pleading puppy eyes that he felt bad for ignoring something the boy had put so much effort in. 

Of course — with good reason. If Moloch found out that someone was writing him letters, he didn't want to imagine what he would do to Rick. If everything went well, Aaron would leave this place within two months. The last thing he wanted, was Rick taking his place. 

And yet, he was standing here now, the letter in his hands. The sight of the handwritten letters called up a deep fear inside him, as if they could tell Moloch about the sender. Not that he would need to compare anyone's handwriting; the man would probably know who had sent the letters anyway. After all, Rick was the only one who kept keeping him company on the sports ground. 

No matter how many times Aaron told him to go away, he never listened. 

Since Aaron was forbidden to speak, he was used to pay attention to his surroundings. He knew about the whispers going around; he knew what they said about Rick. That he was a retard. 

Maybe Moloch shared this opinion, being the reason he never paid attention to the boy. 

Aaron believed it were lies, although Rick seemed unable to see the reality of things. It felt like he was hiding himself in a cloak of love, as if kindness and helpfulness made him not realize where he _really_ was. 

Aaron couldn't blame him. After all, this was a place where they were only breathing poison. Even if they would be set free, something had died inside them for good. 

At least, that went for him. He could only pray that Rick would follow another route. 

He returned his attention to the paper, knowing he didn't have a lot of time. The handwriting of the boy was neat, with round letters. His glance slid to the first sentences. 

_For you,_

_I'm not sure you'll ever read this, but I wrote this for you because I hope it will distract you from the horrible things you're going through. I'm not a very skilled tale teller, I hope you don't mind. Maybe I can write more stories for you, so I will become better._

Aaron bit his lip. He could barely believe that someone was really taking the time to do this for him. Other inmates always turned their faces away when he walked past them, others lacked any sense of sympathy and showed him a dark grin. 

Aaron looked at the pages; Rick had filled five pages with words. It was too much to read right now, so he folded the papers and shoved them deep in the pocket of his overall. Now and then he would go to the restroom to read a part; doing it in his cell was too risky. 

It was a beautiful story — and not only because it was written for him. It was full of humor; the corners of his mouth had even curled up now and then. Rick had an obvious talent for depicting things vividly. In his imagination, Rick and he were playing the leading roles, and when the prince was ultimately saved from the monster and they were sharing a kiss, he couldn't ignore the tiny tingling feeling in his stomach. 

It was bullshit — he knew it. 

After all, it was just a story and Rick was the last person on earth who could rescue him from Moloch. His kindness was his only weapon and he didn't think it would bring any harm to the Nazi. 

Nevertheless he enjoyed fantasizing that Rick was also picturing their faces when he was writing his story. It was impossible to become friends, but Rick's writing gave him the feeling it was possible in a world far away. 

* * *

It was only during another round of distributing laundry where by they were going from cell to cell that Aaron dared to say something to him. Rick was chatting happily while they were making the beds; he was talking about some bird show where he had gone to as a child, and after that story he switched effortlessly to another subject, telling him about how he had flown a toy plane with which he had accidentally crashed against a fat willow. 

"Did you ever fly a toy plane?"

Aaron shook his head. He still felt more comfortable when he didn't talk. 

"Did you ever travel? With a real plane? When I was little I was allowed inside the cockpit for a couple of minutes. It was so cool! We were on our way to Spain."

A smile pressed against Aaron's lips. Rick already continued to talk, as if he accepted Aaron's silence but still wanted to give him the feeling that he was part of the conversation. 

They entered one of the last cells when he suddenly blurted it out: "I read your story."

Aaron felt his cheeks flush because Rick had been in the middle of a story about baby elephants. He instantly stopped talking, his eyes were widening in surprise. They had a warm brown color, like hot chocolate. 

"And? What did you think of it?" Rick laced his fingers and started to wobble on his toes as if he was nervous. 

Did his opinion mean so much to him? The eyes that were staring expectantly at him, told him it did. 

"You're a very talented writer," he said quietly. "I thought the story was beautiful and sometimes it made me smile." He took a deep breath, then he said honestly: "I haven't smiled since I'm inside. S-so... Thank you."

There was something about Rick's innocent face that made him stutter. 

"I'm happy you liked it! So I can write more stories for you? I have inspiration for many! But you can also tell me what you like. Maybe a story about pirates or cowboys or aliens or about dwarfs and elves, or... or ninja's! Just tell me what you like!"

Aaron bit his lip as he looked the other in the eye. He was so sweet...

"How is it possible they sent you to prison, Rick?" he asked quietly. "You have such a big heart..."

Something changed in the boy's expression and he bent his head. "I don't know," he whispered. "The police found weapons in our house. I had never seen them before. But I'm afraid my boyfriend set me up. He hasn't visited me a single time since I'm here." He hugged himself. "Maybe he never really liked me, maybe I was just his back up plan."

Aaron swallowed. 

It wasn't hard to imagine how someone could take advantage of Rick's kindness. 

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "How long do you have to stay inside?"

"Nine months."

Nine months. That was doable when you had a cellmate who kept his hands to himself. 

"How much longer do you have to stay?"

"Ten weeks."

It sounded short — as long as every day didn't feel like an eternity. 

Rick seemed to understand, for he said: "I can write you a story each week. Then you'll have something to look forward to! And once you're home, I can still send you letters!"

The corner of Aaron's mouth quivered. 

He should tell him no. He should walk away and forget about this conversation. His longing to feel better for just a moment, shouldn't put Rick in danger. 

Sadly, he sighed and turned away from Rick to return to the laundry cart. 

Rick's fingers snaked around his wrist and although his grasp didn't feel compelling, Aaron did turn around. He saw the confusion in Rick's eyes. 

"It's too dangerous," he said. 

"I can keep the stories," he answered. "Then you can read them in the cells while I'm making the beds. We can do that, right?" he asked, showing a happiness that was completely out of place in a place like this. "Nobody will ever know!"

Rick's fingers glided down and he took Aaron's hand. Aaron bent his head and stared at them. 

He wasn't sure how, but being around Rick filled his chest with an unknown warmth. His breathing fell heavier. Exactly the sharp contrast with how he felt when he was alone, hurt. It was a different pain than the bruises covering his body, than the raw, bleeding skin making every visit to the restroom torture. 

It was hope of something he would never get. 

Rick pulled his hand away and wrapped his arms around Aaron, pulling him close. He didn't speak. 

He didn't have to. 

Aaron closed his eyes and inhaled Rick's scent. Something inside him crushed and he started to sob while the boy was holding him. He felt ashamed of his tears. Especially now someone was showing him kindness, he couldn't control his emotions. 

"Sssh." Rick rubbed his back. After a while he pulled back a little, his thumbs wiping the tears from his cheeks. Ultimately, his soft lips touched Aaron's cheek. "It's okay to cry. Two more months and you're free. Then you will be freed from that devil for the rest of your life!"

Aaron squeezed his eyes shut. 

Deep inside, he didn't believe his demon would ever give up on him. He would stand up to this angel that wrapped his arms around him again, and Aaron craved too much for his warmth to be able to push him away.


	7. Some Advice

Since Aaron didn't say much outside the cells, Rick always paid attention to his friend's body language. That way, he discovered that the boy's shoulders always relaxed a little when Rick sat down at their table. He liked to make himself believe that Aaron counted down the hours until he could go to the dining hall, just so he would be near Rick again. Even though he couldn't say much; Rick convinced himself that Aaron drew strength from his presence. 

Despite Aaron's verbal seclusion it was never quiet at their table. Rick was very talented in performing a monologue, Tommy loved to talk as well and Ace didn't mind to share his opinion either. There were always fierce discussions about the most trivial things, like the candy they missed the most or their favorite superheroes. 

From the corner of his eye Rick looked aside. He still tried to look not too flashy at the boy; the last thing he wanted was to draw Moloch's attention to their friendship. It however was simply too hard _not_ to look at Aaron, for it felt like he was becoming more handsome each day. Thanks to the many hours he had observed the boy, he knew what he liked to eat. The chocolate desert they got every Thursday was his favorite; his face always told Rick that it was a silver lining for him, something to look forward to. 

Yeah — knowing that a dessert was someone's biggest light was sad. But it was at least _something_ and in a place like this they had to find their happiness in the smallest of things. 

Once Aaron had scraped the plastic cup and put it away, Rick shoved his own dessert towards him. Keeping one eye on Moloch to make sure the man didn't see it, he took Aaron's empty cup and placed it next to his plate. 

For a moment Aaron stared at the new dessert as if he didn't understand how it had ended up there, then he looked up to Rick. His cheeks flushed and beneath the table, Aaron pressed his knee against Rick's by way of a thank you. 

"You don't like it?" Aaron asked quietly. 

"I do. But I like it more to give it to you."

"That is very kind of you." Aaron dropped his eyes, his cheeks reaching a darker shade of red. Rick felt his stomach flutter, it took a lot of willpower not to climb on his lap. Imagining how it would feel to be so close to him, made the wings of the butterflies flutter even faster. 

In silence Aaron ate his dessert, there after it was time to leave. Briefly their eyes met. Rick couldn't help but smile, and Aaron's lips curled up too. Quickly, he turned around and walked away. 

"You're on the roll boy!" Laughing, Tommy slapped his shoulder. "Hitting on Aaron like that!"

"I just wanted to be nice."

Ace chuckled. "Why ain't you a bit nicer to me? I'd liked to have some more desserts too."

Confused, Rick bit his lip. Was it more honest to give his next dessert to Tommy or Ace? 

"Stop teasing that boy." Tommy wrapped an arm around his shoulders and leaned into him. One of his red dreadlocks tickled Rick's neck. "Rick is just a little in love, huh?" Tommy kissed his cheek. "And I think Aaron is a little in love with you too." He winked. 

Suddenly his heart started to beat so fast it hurt. "Y-you really think so?"

"Hell yeah boy. A tomato would pale next to his face. He never dares to look you in the eye when we're at the table, but he can never take his eyes away from you when you're further away."

Rick squeezed his hands, a wonderful shiver rolled through his body. 

The rest of the day he couldn't wipe the smile off his face.

* * *

"You gotta keep your plaything on a shorter leash, bro."

Mateo tore his glance away from the basketball field and looked at Emeril, raising an eyebrow. 

With his eyes, the man hinted aside. Since Rick was on the field, the direction his friend pointed in was a little unexpected. It turned out to be Aaron he was referring to. Although he used to stare at the ground all day long, he was today watching the game he couldn't participate in. 

"Fuck," he sighed as he caught the glances between his cellmate and Aaron. There were brief smiles, longing looks... Something was blossoming between those two and the whole prison was witnessing it. Including Moloch, most likely. 

He whistled to attract Rick's attention, motioning the boy to come. The boy jogged towards him, his curls sticking to his brow. He was panting. As exhausted as he looked; the fanaticism hadn't left his eyes yet. 

"Emeril will take your place."

His friend gave him a brief look before he got up and took Rick's place — for which the rest of his team was nothing but grateful. Rick drank from a bottle of water and wanted to sit down next to him, but Mateo pulled him on his lap. He had to make a point, he had to claim what others believed was his. Although the idea repulsed him, his hand glided to the boy's crotch and started to knead him. 

He heard Rick gasp for breath, and he was unable to keep himself from smirking. Never before he had allowed someone on his lap in jail, and he had certainly not touched someone in public. It however had the expected impact, for he heard some of the guys whistle. 

The fingers of his free hand intertwined with Rick's curls and he pulled his head aside, exposing the side of his neck. He kissed the clammy skin. He felt Rick's excitement rise underneath his fingers and to his surprise he noticed that _he_ was responding to it as well. 

He sucked the boy's flesh until he was sure he would leave a large, purple spot, reminding everyone that Rick was _off limits._ He moved his lips to Rick's ear and whispered: "Outside our cell you're mine, remember? It ruins my reputation if you flirt so obviously with someone else."

"I d—" His words turned into a moan as Mateo strengthened his grasp around the boy. 

"Keep your mouth shut," he hissed. "I'm trying to save you, you idiot. Don't think I _like_ to grab your balls."

Rick looked over his shoulder. "But wh—"

"Shut. Up." He gave him a penetrating look, long enough to make Rick flinch and turn around. 

Mateo pulled his hand away. His eyes shot aside, to Aaron. The boy had bent his head again, looking more miserable than ever. He felt no satisfaction. He hadn't wanted to hurt him, but he neither wanted Moloch to think that he gave his toy permission to get too friendly with his property. If these two boys wanted each other he wouldn't stop them, but they should be much more careful. 

* * *

When he returned to his cell later that evening, Rick was sitting at the desk, writing. Contrary to previous times he didn't greet him with a shiny smile, but he kept staring at his letter. For a while Mateo let him be, but it started to eat on him. Had he crossed a line this afternoon? Now he thought about it, he realized he had more or less _groped_ the boy, even when Rick had once given him a blowjob voluntarily. 

"Hey Rick..." he started after a while. 

The boy turned around, giving him a questioning look. 

"Can you see why I did what I did?"

"Because you want them to think that I'm yours," he muttered, his glance aimed at the floor. He sounded disappointed. 

"You no longer want me to protect you?"

"I do." He pulled his feet on the chair and wrapped his arms around his knees. "But sometimes it's confusing. _You_ are confusing. Sometimes you are nice like now, and sometimes you act like you don't like me at all and it messes with my head."

Mateo sighed. He understood. After all, he neither understood his own feelings that well. That urge to protect Rick wasn't something new; his whole life he had protected his little brother from their insane mother. But Rick wasn't his brother. His fate should leave him indifferent, and it didn't. Lately Rick himself was the reason he was so irritable — he was just too dumb to see what he was doing to himself and the danger he was putting himself in. 

"You get on my nerves," he grunted. "You're the most annoying person I've ever met, but I don't want you to get hurt okay? And I don't want to get hurt either because of something stupid _you_ do."

"But why do you find me annoying?" Rick asked quietly. "I — I always try to be nice. Should I — should I do more?" He started to blush. "You want me between your knees again? You — you never asked for it again. Didn't I do it well?"

Sighing, Mateo rubbed his face. No — he hadn't asked again. On purpose, for each time he thought back to that day he felt guilty. That boy needed self-respect and Mateo wasn't contributing to it by treating him like some toy. 

"No. I don't want another blowjob." He nodded to the bed in front of him. "Sit."

Meekly, Rick got up and sat down at his bed. Nervously, his fingers fidgeted with a thread of his sleeve. 

Mateo took a while to think, searching for the best way to have a conversation with him in which he gained some insight in Rick's thoughts and motivations. It was harder than he thought it would be. 

"Who told you to cheer up others by satisfying them sexually?" he decided to ask right away. "Most of us don't particularly like to see the ones we care about sad, but apart from you I can't think of anyone who's willing to do something so intimate to make someone else feel better. Laying an arm around someone or giving him a hug should be enough. And if not, and if that someone does want another form of physical contact, you're not obliged to give it to him."

Rick bit his lip and stared at the floor. He didn't respond. 

"Some people believe that sex is something special. Something between two people who love each other, who only give it to each other and to nobody else. Don't you like the sound of that?" 

In all fairness Mateo had to admit he'd never had sex with someone he had feelings for. It had never bothered him, but something told him it was something Rick was craving for, and that all of this was just a desperate cry for love. 

"I don't know," he muttered. "Usually — usually I'm the only one giving something. Also in a relationship."

"And you don't mind? You never wanna be the one being pleasured?" He hesitated. "Did you ever... fuck someone?"

Quietly he shook his head, still avoiding his glance.

"And you never told your partner you would like to try it?"

"It was never an issue," he muttered. "It... It was just clear who would fulfill what role."

"And you took the girl's role," Mateo concluded. "So you've never been in a relationship in which you and your boyfriend were equals?"

"No," he muttered. "My umm — my first relationship was with my chemistry teacher, and he was twenty years older."

Mateo felt sick. So he was the victim of a pedophile. He had sensed it well; there was indeed a underlying reason why his image of sex was so... distorted. "How old were you?"

"Fourteen," he whispered. "But — but I did love him. I wanted it."

Mateo doubted Rick would have dared to say no to his teacher, and he thought he would easily fool himself by telling himself he wanted it indeed. "Is he the one who framed you?"

Rick bent his head. "No. He's dead." He breathed in shakily. "One day, I told my friend. That Mr. Sanders and I were having some kind of... relationship. I thought I could trust him, but he told everyone." He bit his lip. "The boy who was fucked by his teacher... Everyone talked about it. Of course the news reached the school board, and they started an investigation. My parents forced me to press charges." He paused, his breathing sounded labored as if he could burst into tears any moment. "They fired him, he lost his teaching certificate. The whole world called him a pedophile and he... he just couldn't live with it. He jumped in front of a train."

"Holy fuck..." Mateo said in shock. In all honesty he couldn't care less about the man's fate, but he understood how hard it must have been for Rick. 

A shaky sigh left Rick's lips. "If I... If never pressed charges... Then there would have been no evidence. Then — then he might have been still alive. It — it's my fault that..."

"Hey." Mateo leaned forward, grabbing Rick's chin to force the boy to look him in the eye. "It was his own fucking fault. Whether you liked what you did or not; you were a _child._ He never should have laid a finger on you."

Rick sighed and bent his head, and Mateo let go of him. 

"Apparently that asshole taught you wrong things, and you still have this insane urge to please others. You don't have to, Rick. There are many other ways to cheer someone up without pulling down pants. Only get intimate when you're in love with someone _and_ when that someone is in love with you too. When he gives you what you give to him."

Rick looked up. A blush spread across his cheeks. "Tommy said that Aaron is in love with me."

 _Fucking Tommy._ Did that guy have a brain at all? 

"You gotta be very careful with Aaron."

"I know."

"I'm not only talking about Moloch." He hesitated. It was none of his damn business, but it felt like nobody had ever given the boy some decent advice. "He is abused. You can't offer him what you offered me, for it's something his torturer takes from him every fucking day. All his associations to sex are negative. There's a good chance that he doesn't want you to touch him, and that he doesn't want to touch you down there either — not even when he is indeed in love. If you two really like each other... Then leave every initiative to him and keep in mind that it can take months or even years before he's ready to be intimate with someone again." 

He looked at Rick, who nodded severely. He thought the boys would be all right once they were out of prison; if someone cared about his lover's well-being it had to be Rick. 

A silence fell. Suddenly Rick got up and wrapped his arms around him. Awkwardly, Mateo laid a hand on his back. 

"Thank you," Rick whispered. "You're the best friend I've had in a long time."

Mateo didn't answer. It was a sad given. 


	8. Kisses in the Dark

Aaron stared at the ceiling. He felt numb, filthy. During dinner he had felt different, just for a minute; he had experienced that warm feeling that was always there when Rick was around. He was a little light in his dark existence — and those lights scared him. They could die any moment. For a moment it had felt like he had been walking on clouds, and all he could see was Rick's sweet smile. 

Until night fell. 

Until Moloch claimed the spot next to him, invading his body until he could only sob, waiting until his tormentor fell asleep. His large hand was still holding Aaron's bruised member; the frail skin scratched open by the man's finger nails. His punishment for fighting his nature, Moloch told him, because he didn't want to show the man how much he loved what that sick son of a bitch was doing to him. 

Aaron didn't think he would ever be able to respond normally to someone's touch again, that he would ever be able to feel excited. He had been a virgin when sent to prison, he had wanted to save himself for someone special. 

Now, he didn't think he would ever be able to give himself to anyone ever again. He doubted he could ever lie next to another body without thinking it was his rapist who was lying next to him. 

His back felt stiff, but he barely dared to move, afraid to wake up Moloch. And how else could he lie than on his back? If he would turn his bleeding behind to the man, he knew how he would wake up next morning, and turning his face towards that pig... The thought alone made him nauseous. 

And so, he had no choice but to accept his pain. After all, the worst was over for tonight. Most days, Moloch slept until the sun came up. He tried to think of nicer things. Of Rick's stories. Of his smile when he gave him his dessert. Of the fact that he never gave up, no matter how hard life was. 

Yet, he also felt restless when he thought about Rick. Not only because he was afraid of what Moloch would do when he found out that they were talking now and then, also because of what he had seen today. Although Mateo had a reputation of saving people from being raped, he had pulled Rick on his lap this afternoon, grabbing him between his legs. Was there more going on in that cell than Rick wanted him to believe? The thought that a sweet boy like Rick would also go through something so horrible, increased the cracks in his heart. 

Aaron decided to ask him the next time he would be alone with his friend. 

* * *

Just like every time they were sent to change the bedding, Aaron received a bundle of papers from Rick with a new story the boy had written. Even though Aaron wanted to help him with doing their task, Rick always rejected his attempts to help him, telling him he had to read the story. 

And so, he did. In silence he read about a clumsy cowboy who kept falling off his horse while trying to impress a native who could talk to animals. Rick's tone was light and the story was funny, just as the ones he read before. It was impressive that someone's thoughts were so bright in a place like this, giving him the opportunity to write this. The romance in the stories seemed to become more important each story. Would it mean something? Did Rick have feelings for him too? He didn't dare to hope for it, he _couldn't_ hope for it. It was nothing but dangerous. 

"And? Did you like the story?" Rick sat down next to him on the unmade bed. 

"It was beautiful. Like always." He gave him a shy smile. 

Rick was beaming. 

"I'm sorry I can never give you something in return," he said quietly. 

Rick's cheeks started to flush. "Your smile is the most beautiful gift to give someone. It uhmm... it's really beautiful."

Aaron felt warm. He didn't dare to look at Rick, instead he looked down. Their hands were resting on the mattress, their pinkies only an inch away from each other. It felt like Aaron lost control over his own body; he shoved his hand aside until their pinkies were touching. 

He felt a little jolt and breathed in sharply. His eyes flashed aside, and his cheeks heated up as their eyes met. Shyly, they both looked away. Nevertheless Rick's hand moved a little, so his fingertips were lightly brushing the back of Aaron's hand. 

Aaron closed his eyes. For someone else it might be a small gesture, but not for him. It made his heart beat like crazy. Rick reminded him of the fact that not every touch led to pain, and that it could feel really nice too. 

For a while they were sitting there, Rick's hand partly covering his. 

They should continue their work, but Aaron didn't have the heart to break contact. 

"May I ask you a question?" Aaron asked after a while. He just needed to know the truth. 

"Ask me whatever you want," Rick answered, smiling. 

He was such a sweetheart. Aaron was terrified that he would lose his innocence here, that he would change like he himself had changed. 

"I uhm — I saw what your cellmate did. During the basketball game. And I — I wondered..." He didn't know how to put his fear into words. After all, nobody ever asked him the same question, of which he was glad. "Never mind," he whispered. 

"Are you trying to ask if Mateo is my lover?" Rick asked hesitantly. 

That hadn't been his intention — he hadn't even _considered_ the possibility that they were lovers. What if Rick had wanted to be touched by him? Mateo was good looking, there had been many days on which Tommy couldn't stop talking about how handsome he looked. 

"Is he?" he muttered. 

From the corner of his eye, he saw that Rick was shaking his head. "No. But he wants other inmates to believe I'm his. So — so they don't bother me."

"But if you two are alone... He never touches you? He doesn't... make you do things?"

"No. He's — he's just my friend, I think. I don't think he likes men."

Aaron took a relieved breath, even though the fact that Mateo had grabbed him in public still didn't sit right with him. It had been humiliating for Rick, it had to be. However, maybe it was the only way he could protect Rick. By making others believe that he owned Rick the way Moloch owned him. 

Aaron didn't know what more to say. His glance returned to their hands, and he stared at them. 

"We have to move on to the next cell," he said eventually. 

He regretted his words immediately, but he knew it was for the best. If not, the guard might check up on them. 

Rick pulled his hand away. Aaron felt cold instantly, only now, he realized how much he had craved for a loving touch. They stood up, made up the bed together and went to the next cell. 

Rick chatted merrily while they were making the beds. His questions became more and more specific, and Aaron caught himself becoming more open. He told about the theater studies he'd wanted to do, about the many years he was playing the violin and carefully, he also started to share some things about his mother and little sister. 

He kept silent about his father — and Rick didn't ask questions about him either. 

"I don't have any siblings," Rick pouted. "It sounds so nice! But I guess I wasn't so sweet they wanted another baby."

"What? But you _are_ sweet," Aaron objected. It took a few seconds before he realized that Rick had been joking, and he started to blush. 

Rick looked at him, smiling shyly. Again there was this tickling in his stomach. He squeezed his fingers before quickly continuing to make up the bed. 

There were only a few cells left, making Aaron wish there was a way to slow down the time. Waiting another week to be together again sounded terribly long. He wished there were other ways to escape from other people's sight, but he couldn't think of anything else, and he knew their current situation could only be a gift from above. 

"I have another surprise for you," Rick said right before their work was done. "But you have to close your eyes."

Aaron looked nervously at the boy. It however was a nice nervousness, and he did as Rick told him. 

"Open your mouth," Rick said, quietly laughing. 

Aaron opened his mouth, and a second later something was shoved between his lips. His eyes shot open when something delicious began to melt on his tongue. It was a piece of chocolate! It had been over a year since he had tasted chocolate! 

"Where did you get it?" he asked baffled. 

Rick shrugged his shoulders. "I guess Mateo has ties to some smugglers around here. He gave me two pieces." He put the other one in his own mouth. 

"That is really sweet.' Aaron intertwined his fingers. He wanted to give something in return so badly, but he didn't know what. Or maybe... He wasn't sure if he dared to do it, but at the same time it was something he really, _really_ wanted. 

Very quickly, he leaned forward and kissed Rick's cheek. His lips were tingling upon the warm skin. Rapidly he pulled back his face, looking at the other boy nervously. Rick's fingers caressed his cheek as if he couldn't believe the kiss had been real, his cheeks turning as red as Aaron's own cheeks had to be. His heart was leaping in his chest. 

"Ummm, I uh — I think you're really sweet Rick," he said quietly. Nervousness was raging through his body, but he wanted to say it anyway. It was unwise, it was dangerous. But he wanted to show his gratitude, he could no longer hold back the words that filled his heart.

"I — I think you're really sweet too." Rick looked him in the eye, his cheeks reddening. "And you know uhm — I think about you all day long."

"I think about you all day long too," he whispered. "I want to be with you each moment of the day."

His nervousness became almost too much to bear when they looked deep into each other's eyes. Every nerve in his body was alert. 

"And uhmm — uhmm I really would like to kiss you," Rick murmured. 

Aaron had the feeling he was melting away. His whole body was shaking when he quietly admitted that he wanted to kiss him too. 

They leaned into each other. His shoulders felt tense, he had no idea what to do with his arms. Their lips touched, and Aaron closed his eyes. Rick's lips were soft and sweet with chocolate. At first they pressed small kisses against each other's lips, while hesitantly raising their hands. Aaron laid his against Rick's chest; Rick's hand cupped the back of his neck. Parting his lips, he let the other inside. Their tongues were playing a tender game, and this time Aaron's hand shoved to Rick's neck as well, from which his fingers found a way into his curls. 

Aaron had kissed only one time before, with a girl on a party where they had been playing truth or dare, four years ago. As far as he could remember, it had nothing to do with the heavy feelings that were raging through his body now. Rick's tenderness was like an anesthetic for all the pain he'd gone through in this prison; it felt like every caress of his tongue was brushing off a scar. 

When they broke their kiss after a long time, they took each other's hands in silence and locked eyes. 

"Maybe umm — maybe we can do something fun one day. When — when we're both out," Rick floundered. "I would really like that. I — I mean, like dating you."

Aaron bit his lip. "I would really like that too."

Rick showed him a relieved smile, squeezing his hands. 

And then, their lips found each other again. 

* * *

Aaron never thought he would feel something else than the fear and the pain as long as he was in prison. It was a miracle that he could smile again, he still had to get used to the feeling of something warm rushing through his veins. He was in love. He was madly in love. Thinking about Rick kept the darkness away that had controlled his brain for months. One look, one brief touch, one smile — even a memory was enough to give him courage, reminding him that he had to endure only a few more weeks before he would be free. Once he was out, he would wait for Rick, and then they no longer had to meet in secret. He loved to fantasize about it; how they would walk hand in hand, how he would introduce Rick to his mother, how they would be able to cuddle without the fear of getting caught...

Two days had passed since their kiss, and he thought about it as often as he could. When he was alone, he sometimes softly touched his lips, knowing Rick had been the last one touching them. It felt like the boy was always with him, as if he was continuously whispering in his ear, telling him this hell was almost over and that a beautiful life was waiting for him. 

Aaron wasn't aware of the dreamy smile that often adorned his lips, or the sparkle in his eyes every time he had been around Rick, or the fact that his shoulders no longer slumped down. 

Moloch however was aware of it. 

Like every night, Aaron was about to take off his clothes so Moloch could take what he wanted, so it would be over for today. Lately, he succeeded more and more in fleeing to a corner of his mind, to detach himself from what was happening to his body. 

Somehow all this became more bearable — maybe because he now knew that his life wasn't condemned to darkness forever. By now, he knew he was still capable of other emotions than fear and pain. 

"Tonight we're going to do something different," Moloch however told him. His voice sounded dead, and the thought that his routine would be interrupted, not knowing whether something _worse_ was going to happen to him, made him flinch. 

He said nothing, he just waited for instructions. 

Moloch sat down at the edge of his bed and leaned back a little. His lustful eyes scanned Aaron's body. Although he was still clothed, he was sure Moloch saw what was underneath it. 

"Come sit." He patted his legs. "Your face towards me."

Aaron stared at him in disbelief. Did he want him to _sit on his lap_? 

He didn't want to — like always when Moloch was using his body, he wanted to turn his face away, convincing himself that it wasn't happening to him, that it was someone else's pain he was feeling. 

He was inclined to shake his head, but by now he knew there was no point in it. Before the night was over, Moloch would break his resistance. It only turned him on when Aaron was trying to fight back, making all of it worse. 

And so, he stood up in silence and straddled the man's lap. Cold fingers caressed his neck. His stomach cramped up, he wanted to push the man away. 

"Kiss me," Moloch said. 

Aaron froze. "W-what?"

Moloch had never wanted to kiss. Why would he now? Would he...

Suddenly, he felt ice cold. 

Moloch knew. Moloch knew he had kissed Rick.

"Why?" he whispered. 

"I heard you like to be kissed." He laid both of his rough hands against Aaron's cheeks. "How come you never told me, baby boy?"

Tears stung in his eyes. How could Moloch know about Rick and him? Had someone seen them? Were there cameras in the cells? His bottom lip started to tremble. 

He didn't want to kiss the man, he rather had the man rape him. His kisses were Rick's; he had been glad that that little bit of intimacy hadn't been destroyed by Moloch. 

A tear itched down his cheek. "I — I don't want to," he said in a shaky voice. 

"Cry, baby boy. You know Daddy likes your tears." His grasp around Aaron's face strengthened and Moloch brought his face closer to that of Aaron. He whimpered when Moloch's tongue stroked his cheek, following the salty trail. 

Aaron squeezed his eyes. If only he was somewhere else. If only he were with Rick right now... He longed for his arms around him, he craved for his consoling kisses. 

"Kiss me," the man told him once again — this time sounding more impatient. 

Aaron shook his head. He didn't want to give this away, it felt like the last thing that belonged to himself. 

"I will offer you a way out," the man said in a sweet voice. Thumbs brushed his cheeks. "Tell me who it was and I'll let my baby boy sleep."

_Never._

He pursed his lips. 

"No? You want to keep your little secret a little longer?" Sadistic laughter followed his words. "That's okay, baby boy. But then you'll have to give Daddy what he wants."

His stomach contracted. He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream. 

But more than anything, he wanted to protect Rick. And so he broke through his reluctance and kissed the man he hated with every bone in his body, allowing him to poison his kisses as well. 


	9. The Monster

Rick had bought a bag of meringue with the money he had earned at the launderette, which he put in the pocket of his overall so that he could share it with his friends over dinner.

And with his boyfriend. 

At least that's what Rick would like to call him, although he hadn't dared to ask. The day after tomorrow it was Friday again, then they could finally talk again.  
  
And kiss.

His stomach fluttered, he got feverishly hot.

With a little hop he walked to the dining room. This morning Aaron had been late for breakfast. Rick had secretly brought him a sandwich which the boy had eaten in the restroom, but apart from that they hadn't spoken to each other. During their work the boy had been on the other side of the room. Rick had tried very hard not to look at his friend too much, but he found it hard to hide how happy Aaron made him by just being in the same room. He yearned for a quick smile, for a meaningful look.

The meals were always the highlight of his day, especially because he could then secretly push his knee against his friend's leg, and the day before yesterday they'd even hooked their pinkies under the table. The memory made his whole body tingle.

"Hi!" He flopped down next to Tommy.

The boy moved his eyebrows up and down. "Someone's happy to see someone special again."

Rick felt his cheeks glow. He had told Tommy that he kissed Aaron right after dinner that same day. And also to Ace.

He obviously had told Mateo too, who had snapped at him for yelling it way too loud. He had regretted his action immediately, but it had been too hard to keep his happiness to himself. 

It was the only thing he could think about — and talk about. How amazing it had been to kiss Aaron, how every touch had made him glow, how he fantasized every night that there were no bars separating them. 

The spot next to him however stayed empty. Would his friend be late again? Rick got up and decided to get some food. Once he returned, the chair was still unoccupied. It made him nervous. Where could Aaron be? His appetite was suddenly hard to find. Did something happen? Nervously, he drummed his fingers on the table.

"Rick..." Ace said in a soft tone. "He's over there." With his eyes he subtly signaled to the side. 

Much less subtle, Rick cocked his head aside. He was indeed sitting at a table in the corner, Moloch being his only company. Something snapped inside Rick when he saw the man's hand on the boy's thigh, where it slowly moved up and down. 

Aaron had bent his head, like always, but he wasn't touching his food. 

"Why is he sitting there?" Rick asked confused. "Why doesn't he join us?"

"Apparently he's done something wrong and now Moloch wants him to sit with him again."

Rick swallowed. It felt like a meatball got stuck in his throat. He knew Aaron had always looked forward to sitting with them, even though he couldn't participate in the conversations. He didn't want him to be alone with Moloch.

"Do you think Moloch would mind if I join them?" he asked. His voice was trembling with nervousness. Actually he didn't dare at all, but the thought that Aaron had no choice but to be alone with that monster was even harder to bear.

"Are you crazy?" Ace hissed. "Everybody knows that Moloch decides who's gonna sit at the table with him."

Rick wondered if that was really true, or if the other inmates were just telling each other so because they didn't want to get close to the man themselves. Maybe he would like it when he got company. Mateo didn't like him at first either, but he had become his friend. Moloch was mean and he did terrible things, but maybe he just felt lonely. 

Rick got up, his plate firmly clasped in his hands. Despite his brave intention, his fingers were trembling.

"What are you doin'?" Tommy looked up too. "Rick you can't..."

"I won't leave him alone. I promised to be his friend."

Rick squared his shoulders. Slowly he started to walk towards Moloch and Aaron. Both snapped up their heads as he neared their table. 

"Hi." Rick gave Aaron a genuine smile, but the boy stared back as if he watched water burn. "I'm Rick," he told Moloch. 

Moloch seemed to turn into a statue, staring at Rick with dead eyes. Rick waved his hand a little awkwardly, like one does when he's not sure if someone is a statue or not. He put down his plate next to Aaron's, shoved back the chair and sat down. 

"It's so quiet at your table," Rick said bravely. "I thought — I love to talk, so if I join you guys you got something to listen to." He glanced at Moloch. "You want me to tell you a story? About — about giants, maybe?"

There was something flickering in the deep-set dark eyes of the man. A shiver crept down his spine. He probably preferred stories about vampires and demons, but those caused Rick nightmares. He rather not thought about them. 

"You want me to tell _you_ a story?" Moloch asked. 

He was speaking in a drawling voice, reminding him of thick syrup. 

"It's about a god — a dark god, more sinister than one can imagine. One that is chained, that can only be controlled as long as he can feast on the blood of young boys." His hand slid across the table, covering Aaron's hand. His long fingers caressed the scarred skin of Aaron's arm. "Pretty boys, with dark hair and dark eyes. With soft pink lips that look beautiful when they're wrapped around my cock. Boys who scream out in pleasure when I lay my hands around their narrow hips and push myself into their tight holes." Moloch stared him in the eye, his eyes twinkling darkly. "Are these the stories you like, Rick? You whisper these things in my boy's ear when he's eating his lunch in silence?"

Rick couldn't move. He was unable to tear his glance away from the monster. Or maybe it was because he didn't dare to look at Aaron, who suffered from these horrors every night. Tears sprung in his eyes. He wanted to save his friend. "I want to — to switch cells," he said.

Aaron snapped his head aside. Before he could say anything, Rick felt two large hands on his shoulders pulling him backwards. 

"You're not going anywhere," a harsh voice sounded. 

Moloch lifted the corner of his mouth. "It looks like you have to keep your pet a little more in control, my friend."

"It does."

Mateo's fingers braided through his curls and he yanked back his head so violently Rick called out in pain. "You're going to disobey me now as much as he does? You want me to also forbid you to speak to others? To lunch with others?"

"You have to help him Mateo," he whispered in a begging tone. "You got..."

"Shut up." Mateo pulled him off his chair and shoved him aside. 

It had become dead quiet in the hall. Rick didn't care, he wouldn't walk away. Something had to change, things couldn't go on like this. Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and returned his gaze at Moloch. 

"I — I don't want you to do that to him. What you just said." His voice sounded weak, but he tried to look intimidating anyway. 

The man started to laugh. "No? And what if I tell you he likes it?" Shoving back his chair, he spread his legs. "Come on baby boy. Show this ignorant boy how much you love Daddy's lollipop." He started to unbutton his pants. 

Aaron's shoulders tensed. 

Moloch tilted his head a little. "You think this is the best moment to play the rebel?"

"No." Quickly, Aaron got up, keeping his face turned away from Rick. 

Rick grabbed his wrist, he didn't intend to let go of him. "You don't have to do this," he said. "Let — let me do it."

This time Aaron _did_ turn his head aside. Tears were shining in his eyes, his lips quivering as he said: "Leave me alone."

"But..."

"Can't you see you're making everything worse?!"

The look in Aaron's eyes was so cold Rick let go of him in shock. It felt like his heart was breaking. 

"But I... I just want to help," he said in a shaky voice. Sniffling, he wiped his eyes with his wrists. 

"I don't want your help," Aaron said loud enough for everyone to hear. 

Rick flinched. 

His words sounded harsh, but the tears were dripping down Aaron's cheeks. His shoulders were shaking when he turned away from Rick and knelt between Moloch's legs. 

"No!!" Rick yelled. Grabbing a plastic fork from the table, he wanted to storm at the man. 

Mateo's fingers however clenched around his arm and pulled him back. Rick tried to tear himself away, his eyes fixed on Aaron's shaking shoulders. 

"Why doesn't anybody do anything?!" he cried out. 

Desperately he looked around. There were guards on the side, exchanging looks. 

"You are all cowards!" he yelled. "He doesn't want this! He doesn't want this!!" His words were unintelligible because of his sobs. 

Against his better judgement he hoped that Moloch would come to his senses, that he would realize that he was behaving like a monster and that he was humiliating Aaron in front of everyone. This was the ultimate display of power and nobody helped his friend, _nobody_...

Mateo laid a hand in his neck, turning him around and pulling him against his chest. Briefly, Mateo's lips touched his hair just above his ear. 

"Calm down," he whispered. "They will stop him." 

Somehow, Mateo's scent and voice calmed him down a little. He took a deep breath. Was it really true? Or was he lying? Nevertheless his breathing slowed down. In the background he could still hear Aaron's sobs, as if it was an echo of his own grief. 

"Hurry up boy," Moloch's impatient voice sounded. 

"Hey," another voice sounded — strong, like that of a guard. Mateo gave him some space to look over his shoulder; indeed, a broad-shouldered man walked over to them. "Pull up your pants."

Moloch gave the man a lazy smirk. "You can take his place if you like."

Some inmates started to laugh. The guard grabbed the man's collar and pulled him on his feet. "You can save your insults for your fellow prisoners. A couple of days in solitary seems good for you."

Moloch shrugged his shoulders and walked past the guard. In passing, he looked Rick straight in the eye. A shiver rolled down his spine. Yet, he tore his glance away and rushed to Aaron. 

"Aaron," he said in a soft tone. "Are you — are you okay?"

With teary eyes, Aaron looked him in the eye. He was shaking. "Leave me alone."

"But you'll be safe for the next few nights," Rick said in a small voice. "That's — that's something, right?"

"Just leave me alone." Aaron walked past him and rushed out of the dinner hall. 

Rick watched him go, feeling more lost than ever. 


	10. Pieces

If he hadn't been so afraid of Moloch's revenge, he might have been able to sleep for the first time in months. He wasn't so much afraid of what Moloch would do to _him_ — for revenge there would be, he knew that. Moloch would remind him of the fact that he could think of a million ways to hurt him — but pain was nothing new. It was even something inevitable. 

No — what really froze his heart was the thought that Moloch would hurt _Rick._

He didn't understand. They had been so careful, how could Rick walk straight to them in a crowded room, showing everyone, including Moloch, that they were friends? It made him angry. Didn't Rick think of the consequences at all? Was he underestimating the pain Aaron was going through every night? Did he believe it wasn't so bad? 

He had even offered to switch cells. 

Hearing those words still made him feel sick. It was probably meant in a sweet way — but it hurt. How could Rick believe that he would ever allow Moloch to do with him what he did to Aaron? Aaron was already ruined. Broken, violated, abandoned by everyone but Rick. Until he met Rick, his lips had been unable to smile for months; a dull indifference had been the only thing he felt. He had been dead inside — and Rick had awoken something inside him. Something which made life better here, but which was thrown to pieces now. 

It felt like now, everyone could see the shards he was consisting of. 

Rick however was still in one piece. He was still pure, his heart was still good. 

And once Moloch was done with him, pieces would be all that was left of him. A fact Aaron was forced to live with. After all, _he_ had allowed Rick to come closer; he had longed for his friendship, for his love. His weakness cost Rick his innocence, maybe even his life. 

* * *

Aaron sat upright as the door of his cell was opened. It was still dark; the alarm clock wasn't blaring. His stomach cramped up at the thought that Moloch was already released from solitary. Or maybe he was permitted to sleep here and would he go back tomorrow. He was surely able to arrange something like that. 

"Thank you," a polite voice sounded when the door closed. 

Aaron narrowed his eyes to identify the man who was inside his cell now. Moloch would never thank a guard. His built was also much smaller than that of his tormentor. 

His heart seemed to shake in his chest when he realized that it was Rick.

"What — what are you doing here?"

Rick sat down at the edge of the bed. Aaron reached for the light switch, he couldn't believe the boy was really here. 

"I wanted to be with you," Rick said quietly. "Even though you're mad at me. I hope — I hope I can make things right. Mateo bribed a guard who will bring me back tomorrow morning."

Aaron's head was spinning. He couldn't wrap his head around this; Rick had came to him and _his cellmate_ had paid a lot of money for it.

"Why would he do that?" Aaron asked in a hoarse voice. 

"I think because he wants to help you, but he doesn't know how," Rick answered. "When I told him I wanted to be with you, he said he would take care of it." The boy reached his fingers forwards, taking his hand in his as if it was something very fragile. "I don't know if you want me around. Maybe you preferred to be alone. I can also sit on the chair and wait until the sun comes up." A pink tinge spread across his cheeks. "Maybe this was stupid. You — I guess you were relieved that you were alone and now..."

"I'm glad you're here," Aaron said. "I'm not sure it's smart... But..." he sighed. "But Moloch knows about us anyway."

The boy bent his head. "I couldn't watch and do nothing. He's a monster. I keep thinking about what he said so shamelessly about you, how he treated you in public..." His voice sounded smothered and when Aaron moved his glance to his face, he saw the tears in his eyes. "I feel so sorry for you," the boy said, his voice shaking. "I was so relieved that he would stay away from you for a few days... I didn't think of the consequences."

Tears rolled down his cheeks. 

Aaron sat on his knees, taking Rick's face between his hands and wiping the tears away with his thumbs. For a while he stared into his sweet, sad eyes. 

"Please, never suggest to switch cells again," he whispered. "I have to endure this for six more weeks. Never try to lure him out again, I don't want you to take my place once I'm gone. I can do this for another few weeks," he promised. "And once I'm out, I will wait for you."

Rick raised his hand, with the back of his fingers he caressed Aaron's cheek. His gentle touch caused goosebumps to spread across his neck and shoulders and he closed his eyes. 

"Will you really wait for me?" Rick asked. His voice was almost inaudible. "It will take more than six months before I can leave."

Aaron opened his eyes again. Rick had pulled his hand away and his skin felt cold. 

"I will visit you each week."

Rick's cheeks flushed. "You will?"

"I will." Aaron laid back on his bed, shoving aside a little. Hesitantly, he looked at his friend. "You want uhm — You can lie down next to me if you like?"

"Oh." Shyly, Rick bit his lip, causing Aaron's stomach to flutter. The boy laid down on the bed and rolled on his side. Aaron felt nervous. A tingling feeling raced down his arms to his hands, and he raised his hand and awkwardly raked his fingers through Rick's brown curls. His hair was so soft, and the curls were so beautiful. 

They were lying on their sides facing each other. He noticed that Rick didn't know what to do with his arm, that was awkwardly lying between their bodies. Would he like to feel his hand on his hip? On his chest? He didn't know — and he felt relieved that the boy wasn't trying anything. 

He moved his glance back to Rick and looked into his brown eyes. He was so handsome... Aaron couldn't imagine why Rick would want to be here with him. Actually, he'd thought that nobody would ever want to touch him after what had happened to him. He thought they would be disgusted with him. 

Aaron's gaze wandered to Rick's lips. Would they taste like they had done last time? Or would he be reminded of Moloch? There was a knot in his stomach. No — Rick was the opposite of his cellmate. He moved his face a little closer to his friend. His heart was sputtering in his chest. Just a little closer...

Suddenly, their noses bumped and ashamed, Aaron turned his face away. 

Rick's lips softly touched his cheek. A sigh of relief left Aaron's lips. He turned his face back, this time their lips did reach each other. Aaron cupped Rick's jaw while pressing small kisses to his lips. After a while, Rick's tongue tapped against his bottom lip and he opened his mouth to let him in. 

Aaron's toes curled as they snuggled closer. The kiss was tender and soft. Whatever Moloch had tried to take from him, he hadn't succeeded. This kiss was something nobody could imitate, for a brief moment his world seemed to be painted in gold. Rick laid an arm around him, pulling him closer. 

For a long time they were kissing, until Aaron felt something hard press against his pubic region. Immediately he recoiled, his back hit the wall. 

Rick looked at him, startled. "What is it? Did I do something wrong?"

Aaron didn't answer. Instead, he stared at the boy's waist. Through his thin pajama pants, his erection was clearly visible. Something inside him contracted. A voice in his head whispered that Rick was only after one thing. 

Sex. 

Just like all other men around here. 

"Oh," Rick said quietly. His cheeks turned flaming red, and awkwardly he tried to shield off his excitement with his hand. "Sorry. I — I didn't want..." His eyes dropped. "I think you're incredibly handsome and I am very much in love with you, but I would never... I would never do something you don't want me to, Aaron. You — you have to believe me. And I promise you that... that I never think about such things when I fantasize about us. Not until — not until you're okay with it. And if you're never okay with it... then that's okay too. We will find other things we both feel comfortable with, right?"

Rick looked up. Aaron saw the truth in his eyes and the fear slipped away. He felt guilty for comparing Rick to the others. Of course he was different. 

"Sorry," he murmured. 

"It's okay," Rick said. He moved a little closer to Aaron and rested his head on the same pillow. Aaron felt warm when he looked into the boy's eyes. Even though he wasn't touching him, it felt like he was receiving a warm embrace. "Mateo already told me I have to be very careful with you."

It felt like he had swallowed a stone. The thought that Rick discussed things like that with his cellmate, gave him a strange feeling. 

"You were careful," he answered, looking at the sheets. "I responded too fiercely."

"It's okay," Rick said once more. "Shall we sleep?"

Aaron nodded. Rick turned on his back and reached for the night light to switch it off. Aaron hesitated briefly before crawling closer to his friend, craving for his warmth. 

Hesitantly, he wrapped an arm around Rick's warm torso. He was afraid that he was showing mixed signals, but he really wanted to feel the reassurance of his arms. 

In the darkness, their lips met without it being Aaron's intention, and while they kissed in silence, their embrace became more passionate until they fell asleep with their limbs entangled. 


	11. Stronger Than You Think

Rick was holding Aaron's hand while they were getting some air at the yard, together with Tommy and Ace. The weather was good, the sun warmed their skin. Mateo, Emeril and Tommy's older brother Zeke were standing a few metres away from them, shielding them off from the other prisoners. It felt good, having Aaron so close. Most of the time he was quiet, but now and then he was participating in the conversation. His eyes however were always restless; he was looking around skittishly the whole time. It had been two days since Moloch had been sent to solitary. Since that night Aaron was sitting at their table again, and at night Rick held him in his arms. He liked it a lot, he wished they could be together the whole itme. Carefully, Rick had tried to figure out if there was a way in which Moloch would be assigned to another cell. Rick was prepared to renounce all his savings if it meant that his boyfriend was safe at night, and Tommy and Ace told him they didn't mind to pay as well. There had to be others too. 

Yet, Mateo had shaken his head, telling him to forget about the plan. It was one thing to bribe a guard for a few nights, but purposely messing with Moloch was a whole different story. The man was part of a dangerous organization and the guards would put their families in danger if they stood up against the inmate. According to Mateo, there wasn't a single guard who would take the risk for a boy who'd be free in a few weeks anyway. 

It made Rick angry — because of their cowardliness, Aaron was suffering. Although the longing to hurt someone had never crossed Rick's mind, he was plagued by dark fantasies now and then, wishing that Moloch would die. A heart attack would be perfect, but if someone gave him a knife, would he dare to stab the man? His glance moved aside, to Aaron's sweet face. There was a hint of a smile around his lips and when the boy caught his glance, a pink tinge spread across Aaron's cheeks while he squeezed Rick's hand. 

Rick wanted to protect him so desperately. With every hour passing by, he felt more nervous, afraid that Moloch would walk up to them, take Aaron away from him and drag him to a cell. 

Aaron lifted his hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. "We'll be all right," he said in a soft tone. Apparently, Rick had squeezed his hand. "I can deal with whatever is coming. I know I'm no longer alone." Another kiss followed, this time on his knuckle. Rick felt so many butterflies in his stomach that it was a miracle he was not lifted from the ground. 

"When he comes back..." Rick said quietly, "does that mean that we can't... be together like this anymore?"

"It's better if we don't. We shouldn't provoke him. Six more weeks and I'm out. That's what we should focus on." He turned a little more towards Rick. "I'll let him believe that I'm his. But my heart, my heart's yours."

Rick nodded hesitantly. He understood, he didn't want Moloch to force himself on the boy in public again. There was nothing more humiliating he could think of. 

Aaron leaned into him, whispering with flushing cheeks: "And we still have the Fridays, when we're changing the bedding."

Rick wanted to wrap his arms around his boyfriend, but he thought about what Mateo had said earlier today; that he needed to create space between them. He shouldn't fuck things up _again_ when Moloch came back.

"You two are disgustingly clingy." Ace kicked his foot, although he gave them a quick wink. "Hey, why don't ya tell us why you're here, Rick?"

"Oh — umm. I was sent to prison because my ex... possessed illegal guns. A lot. And he blamed me for it."

Saying these words still ached his heart, but it wasn't as horrible as it had been in the beginning. If he hadn't been betrayed by his boyfriend, he never would have met Aaron. And he knew his new boyfriend would never betray him like that.

"What about you?" Rick asked curiously. 

"You go first," Ace sent a smirk to his friend. "Your story is the dumbest I've ever heard."

Tommy chuckled and looked at Rick. "I wasn't completely sober—"

"Which is just a dumb excuse to look less stupid," Ace told him. 

"Anyway, I broke into an apartment but I accidentally locked myself up. Don't ask me how. It was on the fourth floor, so I couldn't climb out of a window."

Rick stared at him with eyes. "Why would you break into a house?"

"It was just a stupid bet."

"He missed his brother," Ace told him in a whisper before turning back to Tommy, smirking. "Or were you trying to prove that you weren't as stupid as your brother? You failed, bro."

"Hmpff. You got no right to call me stupid. I'm not the one spitting a cop in the face."

Ace chuckled. "But I _was_ drunk."

"You spit a cop in the face?" 

The small boy leaned back and laughed. "Yeah. My homie and I were stealing a police car, we wanted to joy ride. I got the most severe penalty, for I was the one driving — drunk — and I fought with an officier when he called me a kid. I ended up in the back of the same police car we stole. Because of some vandalism charges I already had community service a couple of months ago, so this time I was sent straight to prison."

"Wow..." Rick stared at him, not knowing what to say. These were quite the stories. He turned towards Aaron, looking curiously at his friend. "What about you? Why are you here?"

The boy stared at his knees. Instead of answering, he shrugged. 

"Are you innocent too?"

"No," Aaron muttered. "I'm anything but innocent."

Rick's worries increased when he saw the bitter expression on Aaron's face. He wanted to caress his face, but he was startled when Aaron pulled his hand away all of a sudden and looked over his shoulder. 

It was dead silent around them. 

Rick felt the panic rise when he saw who was standing in the doorway. Moloch. Before he could say or do something, Aaron got up and shuffled towards the man, his head hanging. 

By reflex Rick wanted to jump up; he didn't want to leave his boyfriend alone, but Ace grabbed his wrist. "Don't," he said in a stern voice. "He has to bear this alone. If you interfere, things will only become worse for him."

Rick took a deep breath and bent his head. His heart broke into pieces. He didn't know how to do this. How to do nothing. How to pretend that the sweetest boy he'd ever met wasn't dragged into hell within a few minutes. 

His bottom lip started to quiver. 

Then, he started to cry. 

Ace sighed, wrapped an arm around him. "He's stronger than you think, Rick."

Rick sobbed, his shoulders were shaking. "But I'm not."


	12. Undeserved

Aaron didn't know what he found worse. What he was going through in his cell every night, feeling numb and filthy, or the helpless look in Rick's eyes, every time their paths crossed. He knew his friend found it hard to keep his distance, and Aaron found it hard as well. Every hour of every day, he longed for his arms, to feel safe, even when he knew that Rick was no match to Moloch.

Things had become worse; what his cellmate was doing to his body hurt a hundred times worse than before, especially when Moloch groaned in his ear how he would do the same to the "little curly" and how he would force Aaron to watch when Moloch would tear his friend open from the inside. Sometimes he described the scenes so vividly it made Aaron throw up, where after the man hit him or made him smear his puke on Moloch's genitals so Aaron could lick it off.

It was never enough for Moloch; trauma after trauma was building up. Aaron became more willingly each day, forcing himself to pleasure the man as good as he could, hoping he would leave Rick alone.

Until now, it was working and that sick motherfucker hadn't touched his friend. Whether it was because he was satisfied with Aaron, because he enjoyed seeing Aaron live in fear, or because he took Mateo's claim on the boy at least a little serious, he did not know.

The moments with Rick were scarce. They occasionally met in the restroom where they locked themselves up in the bathroom stall and where Rick wrapped his arms around him. Wordlessly, Aaron cried while Rick stroked his hair and whispered sweet nothings. The first two weeks after Moloch's return from solitary, Aaron had acted like he could handle it. But Rick wasn't stupid. He felt his pain and his grief, and it hurt him that Aaron pushed him away. After giving in to his pain, he had cried for at least fifteen minutes. It had given a little bit of relief. Although he'd wanted to protect his friend, he now knew that Rick wanted to share in his suffering; he wanted to help him with a kiss or a hug. It gave him strength — strength to pull through.

Fridays were still the days he looked forward to. There were even a few guards who turned a blind eye if they stayed too long in one of the cells. Although nobody stopped Moloch from doing what he did, some of the guards still seemed to have a bit of a heart and allowed him a few moments with the one he loved.

Rick's cell was in the middle of the row, the most suitable place to take a break. Also this time, Rick had pulled him on the bed and wrapped his arms around him. He told him about the carnival in the city where he grew up, where they would eat cotton candy and kiss in the Ferris wheel once they were out of prison. It were stories and promises like these that made Aaron forget about all the cruelties for a few seconds.

It weren't always nice stories Rick told him. He also told him about the science teacher he'd been in a relationship with and who committed suicide when the truth came out, and he also talked about his last ex who practically sent him to this awful place.

"But I don't mind to be here," Rick had said with a smile, letting his fingers travel across Aaron's jaw. "Otherwise, I never would have met you. And what I feel for you, I've never felt for anyone."

Something Aaron could confirm. They'd lost themselves in a warm kiss that melted away the pain and the fear and directed his face back towards the future. That was what he should focus on; a future in which they were both free.

"Three more weeks," Aaron said. He turned on Rick's lap, putting a knee on both sides of him so he could face him. "Three more weeks and I'm free."

"Yes." Rick's eyes lighted up. "I'm counting down the days."

Aaron's thumb caressed Rick's bottom lip and he leaned forward to kiss the corner of his mouth. "I will visit you as many times as I can."

His friend had to stay six months longer, of which three months without Mateo's protection. That was the period Aaron feared the most. That might be the moment Moloch was waiting for.

Rick smiled. Even after all the times he had seen that smile, the sight of it filled his heart with warmth. The beauty of it never bored; it was spectacular as the sunset. "I really like that. I never had a visitor."

The look on his face became gloomy.

Aaron hated Rick's parents. Their child was inside, innocent, and they hadn't paid him a single visit. They didn't take his calls, nor did they answer his letters. He didn't understand how they could do that to such a sweet boy.

Aaron's mother and little sister had visited him. Twice. The second time, Aaron had a tantrum, after which he had been unable to look them in the eye again. The abuse had already started, which was why he couldn't control his emotions and he didn't want them to see the look in his eyes become emptier and emptier. It would only hurt them.

He did miss them. His mother hated him for what he had done, yet, he knew she loved him. And his baby sister... He swallowed at the thought of the little Lina. He was going through this for her. He had saved her from a monster; that he had gotten his own monster in return... Well, so be it. At least she was safe now.

Aaron laid two fingers under Rick's chin and lifted his crestfallen face. "But I will visit you. I promise."

Rick's cheeks turned pink. He wrapped his arms around Aaron and pulled him to his chest. "You never told me why you're inside. Sometimes — it's hard to imagine that you really did something horrible. You're so sweet."

Aaron showed him a small smile. He found it hard to talk about it, but Rick made everything easier. He leaned back in Rick's embrace so he could look at him. "My father was an alcoholic. He hit us sometimes. Mom wanted to leave, but she didn't have a job, and she did have two children. Lina is only ten. She has a form of autism, and for her, it was hard to see when she should stay away from Father." He swallowed. "One day, he stumbled inside with a bottle of whisky in his hand. Right after school; he'd been away all night and day. He stumbled over one of Lina's toys, and the bottle fell and it broke. In his anger, he stomped on the kids' telescope and she ran to it. As she started to cry, he hit her. First with his hand. Then..." The memory made him flinch; suddenly, he saw her bleeding face before his eyes. "Then, with the broken bottle. He lashed out to her face and injured her badly. I was reading on the couch, and I yelled at him, telling him to stop. When he didn't... I grabbed a vase and hit his head, again and again, until he stopped. And then... then he was dead." The last words were barely a whisper. "I killed my father."

Despite everything, it had still been his father. He hadn't been himself; the alcohol had turned him into a monster. Even when his father was no longer moving, Aaron had continued to hit him. The fear for his sister's safety had such a strong hold over him that he'd completely lost control. He'd never wanted to kill his father. He had just... wanted him to stop. He had wanted him to become normal again. Before... whatever problems made him drink so much.

Rick cupped the sides of his face. "That's horrible. I'm so sorry for you."

Aaron's eyes dropped. The most horrible thing was that their household income was gone. Aaron couldn't contribute financially, for he was stuck in here. He had no idea how they were, if they still had a roof above their heads, if they had enough food.

He didn't dare to think about it; the fear that he had harmed his family more than his father had done was extremely painful. Sometimes, he really believed they weren't doing well and that Moloch was his punishment. That he no longer deserved happiness because he'd caused them so much misery.

A caress across his cheek made him look up. Also now, guilt was pooling in his stomach. Maybe he neither deserved Rick. His angel.

"Do you miss him?"

The question was a bit unexpected. Aaron rubbed his neck. "I miss who he used to be. The good memories. But not... who he had become." He sighed softly. "What about you? Do you miss your parents."

Rick stared down and stayed silent for a long time.

"I'm glad to have you," he said eventually.

Rick had no one else while he had never done anything wrong, which made Aaron sad. He had just fallen in love with the wrong men. What did that say about Aaron? Was there something wrong with him too? He was in prison, he couldn't protect himself, had brought Rick in danger, _and_ he had killed his father. Deep down, he knew the answer.

Aaron bent his head until his forehead rested against that of the other boy, and he looked into his warm brown eyes. "I think I love you," he whispered. A blush spread across his cheeks, which was mirrored on Rick's.

"I love you too," Rick answered. "Do you, uh — I was wondering for some time... Do you want to be my boyfriend? Or — or are you already my boyfriend?"

Was he? Aaron didn't know. He wanted it, he wanted Rick, but it was strange to call someone his boyfriend why someone else possessed his body.

"If you — if you would want that," he said, hesitating. "Despite that I'm..." He swallowed. "Well, you know."

"I want you to be my boyfriend." Rick caressed his cheek. "I want that very much."

They leaned closer and kissed each other intimately.

Then, the moment was over and they would have to wait another week before they could be together again. ****


	13. Always Be Mine

Mateo could think of only one person who liked to _sing_ in prison. For over three days, Rick had a mood that almost made Mateo puke. It had started with humming, but by now, Mateo had heard the whole discography of the Backstreet Boys. Or whatever douchebags sung these crap songs. It made him moody, although that could also be caused by the fact that it was visiting day tomorrow. This time he had neither gotten a request and by now it really started to bother him. It wasn't like his brother to stay away for so long. Perhaps he should arrange a call, although he wasn't sure how he would react if his call was ignored or if the device was no longer in use. He hated having no control over the situation; Juan and he had always been close and now they'd lost contact, he experienced the feeling of _panic_ for almost the first time in his life. He couldn't do shit and the powerlessness was worse than being locked up here. Normally, he would tell himself that his brother wouldn't get himself in trouble that easily; Mateo had always been the difficult one. However, since Mateo had stabbed someone things were different. Too many times, the thought that the guy would take revenge by going after his little brother had haunted him. Mateo had dismissed his fears every time; it had been a very personal action, something his brother had nothing to do with. His victim wanted to bury the truth that Mateo had discovered and confronting Juan with it would only make things worse for him — at least, that was what Mateo had been telling himself. It had given him peace of mind, especially now a year had passed and nobody had bothered his little brother. Now, however, things were different and it was eating him up. 

He glanced at Rick, who sat behind the desk and was softly singing, his pen scratching across the paper incessantly. As if he felt that Mateo was watching him, he looked over his shoulder and smiled. "Would you want me to write you letters too when you're free?"

"No," he answered coldly. "Once I'm finally away from here, I never wanna think back to this shithole and my retarded cellmate."

Rick's shoulders sagged. "Retarded? Aaron thinks I'm sweet."

"Good for him."

"I think you secretly find me sweet too." His brown eyes lit up as if that thought crossed his mind for the first time. "If not, you wouldn't have protected me, right? And you got me chocolates, and that night that you bribed a guard to —"

"Don't make me regret those things," he cut him off. 

Rick's smile was back. It looked a bit teasing this time, giving Mateo a strange feeling in his stomach. "I bet you're going to miss me when you're gone." The corners of his mouth dropped. "Either way, I know I'm going to miss you."

Mateo was sick of this conversation and he wished that Rick would just shut up. Telling him to do so however would only be effective for two minutes. He laid down on his bunk and rolled on his side, his face towards the wall. "I'm goin' to sleep, so shut the hell up."

It would take at least 30 more minutes before the lights would go out, but even in the dark, he suspected Rick to continue to write the sappy love letters he planned to give Aaron tomorrow. Mateo hoped the boy would write him back after his release; if not, he would have a crying cellmate for the remaining months. That sounded even worse than a disgustingly happy one.

* * *

They'd arrived at the last cell where they had to change the bedding. Aaron never expected that there would be one aspect he would miss about his captivity, but there was. He would love to do all the cells once again. Rick was joking the whole time, ambushing him with sudden hugs and teasing kisses and his laughter warmed him to the core. Even though Rick was always sweet and cheerful, he was extra energetic today and it was all because of Aaron's release tomorrow. Then, he would finally be redeemed from Moloch. 

"Look, these are all for you!" Rick handed him a pile of paper. "I made these the past days. I wrote stories and poems and just other things I wanted to say to you. There's a date on them so that you have a little present a few times a week and won't forget about me."

Aaron placed the papers on the bed next to him, wrapped his arms around Rick, and rested his forehead against that of his boyfriend, looking deep into his eyes. "I could never forget you. I never met someone like you."

Butterflies raced through his stomach at the sight of Rick's flushing cheeks. Softly, he brushed his lips with his own, his knees feeling weak. His handed glided up into Rick's curls. He would miss the boy terribly and deep inside he was terrified for what Moloch would do to him. Aaron would pray endlessly for him, hoping the man would leave his boyfriend alone and that Mateo would be able to protect him. 

The caress of Rick's tongue and the fingers brushing his neck made the fear fade, keeping him in the here and now. 

After a long time, they broke the kiss and pulled each other in an intimate embrace. "I will write you each week," Aaron promised, laying a kiss on his temple. "And I will visit you whenever I can." He created a little more distance between them so he could look at the other. "And I will organize a fun date when you're free."

Rick smiled from ear to ear and kept pressing small kisses to his lips. "I have a suggestion for that date. Kissing and cuddling all day long."

Aaron chuckled softly. "I will make enough time for that."

"There's never enough time for that."

Aaron pulled his hands away from Rick's back and intertwined their fingers. A warm feeling blossomed in his chest while looking into Rick's soft brown eyes. He was so in love with the boy and he knew his feelings would only grow stronger once there was no threat anymore. He couldn't wait until they could see each other whenever they wanted, until they could walk hand in hand and slow dance and watch the sunset at the beach, cuddling... He memorized these beautiful thoughts, determined to flee there tonight when Moloch would get his claws in him for the very last time. 

"I think they'll release me tomorrow morning after breakfast. We could meet in the restroom before the end of it? To say our goodbyes?"

Rick nodded excitedly, pressing another kiss to his lips. "Then I'll have one last kiss to look forward to."

"Exactly." Aaron caressed his cheek. _As do I._

* * *

Aaron was tempted to have his last dinner with Rick, Tommy and Ace, but he didn't do it. He didn't want to displease Moloch, who wouldn't be in the best mood now he was going to lose his plaything. Aaron knew his last night would be horrible, but he didn't want to challenge the man, especially not when he would take his frustration out on Rick in the future. 

And so, he ate his last supper in silence, together with the man who he hated with every bone in his body. He let the night come over him, floating in a sea of pain but looking forward to dawn when he would find a new land where he could finally escape from the monster. 

_Soon, all this will be over,_ he told himself with every thrust that seemed to rip him open. _Then, this demon will become nothing but a dark memory._

Eventually, Moloch rolled on his back, letting out a satisfied groan. 

Aaron lowered on his side and stared at the wall, only now aware of the tears itching down his cheeks. Anxiously he waited until the breathing of his tormentor slowed down; a sign that sleep came over him. 

It did not happen. Instead, he felt lips touching his shoulder. 

Aaron froze, his stomach writhing as a large hand cupped his hip. Hot breathing scorched his ear. "You really think I'd let a pretty boy like you go?" The hand glided to his front, kneading the already bruised body part that refused to do what Moloch wanted for a long time. 

Aaron was silent. 

Moloch wasn't satisfied with his silence; suddenly he grabbed Aaron's throat, lifting him up and slamming him against the wall. His head crashed into the stone. Aaron welcomed the pain flashing through his skull, hoping he would lose consciousness. Through a blur of tears, he watched the man crawl closer. Cold fingers grabbed his hand, folding his fingers around something. Aaron's eyes widened when something sharp cut his fingers. Was it a piece of glass? Suddenly his heart froze, the golden future with Rick melting before his eyes. Was Moloch going to kill him? Now — now his freedom was only a few hours away? 

"You're mine, little boy. You will always be mine."

Moloch's fingers clutched around his, the glass cutting deeper in his flesh. Then, Moloch yanked his hand forward, slamming the shard into his stomach. Aaron screamed in pain when the glass cut deep into his fingers. Moloch didn't let go of his hand; he lashed out again, burying the shank deeper in his own flesh. 

The man stumbled backward, fell out of bed. In shock, Aaron stared into the dark while warm blood dripped down his hand. 

Moloch screamed for help. 

It was surreal — _Moloch_ screaming for help; because he had stabbed himself. 

Footsteps of guards hurried towards them; a few moments later, beams of light shone into their cell. In their ominous light, Aaron caught a glimpse of Moloch's insane grin. 

"My cellmate stabbed me with a piece of glass," Moloch told the guards, groaning in pain. 

Immediately, the guards called for back-up. The door was opened and Moloch was taken to the infirmary. Still stunned, Aaron watched him leave until two men grabbed his arms and pulled him off the bunk. 

"That means solitary for you, kid," one of them growled. 

"I — I didn't do anything," Aaron mumbled. "I'm almost free. Tomorrow... Tomorrow they will set me free."

"Dream on, boy. After a violent act like this, you're not going anywhere."

Moloch's words echoed through his head, slamming themselves in his brain with the sharpness pieces of broken glass. 

_"You're mine, little boy. You will always be mine."_


End file.
